


Novi Orbis Umbra

by OerbaIzalith, scorpionmother



Series: Seize the Night Chronicles [2]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: 80's-90's era, Child Death, Companion Piece, F/M, Love Triangle, Pre-Carpe Noctem, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OerbaIzalith/pseuds/OerbaIzalith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionmother/pseuds/scorpionmother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1989, Ethan Chandler is well on his way to locking himself into a loveless marriage with a woman he barely even likes. However, fate guides him onto a different path...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Verlore Held (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoForATable (AliSimAlice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliSimAlice/gifts).



> This is it, our first collaboration, exploring the relationship between Ethan and Vanessa before the events of Carpe Noctem. For Theda, with all our love x

Delaware - 1892

His legs scream in protest as he pushes himself on, his heart pounding like it is trying to explode through his chest, its pumping louder it seems than the breath he tears into his burning lungs. He crashes through the frozen leaf litter that carpets the forest floor, the white and red oaks towering above him, their naked limbs emulating his agony as they twist against the twilight sky. He is barely conscious of the pain of the myriad of cuts and grazes that cover his hands and knees where he’s crashed to the ground innumerable times, tripping on hidden tree roots and divots that make this journey even more treacherous than it already is. 

The wind is freezing, cooling the sweat pouring off his body the cold burrowing bone deep through his shivering flesh. He is inadequately dressed for the weather only in shirt sleeves but he’d had no time to stop to dress for the winter night. He’d had to take his chance when it showed itself, when eventually those paid to watch him had lowered their guard. Oh how they would suffer those men who had failed to stop his escape. The punishment they would wear forever branded on the skins of their backs, if his brutal father let them live after allowing his chance to live forever get away. The reason, the only reason his father had wanted him back, had poured thousands of dollars into the grasping hands of Inspector Rusk to extradite him back, to return him to his mother land was the curse that Ethan endured. 

He’d learnt in the weeks since his return that in the years since his youngest son had left the shores of his homeland, Jared Talbot had begun to feel the icy breath of age whispering, waking him in the night sweating with fear about what awaited him when death finally embraced him. He’d never feared it before. He’d seen men die, had killed them himself and had never associated their demise as something that would come to him. Had watched in detachment as his wife’s abused body had bled to death trying to give him another son, a son worthy to bear his ancient name. But as age ran her white finger through his hair and over his cheeks, leaving her indelible marks, he began to fear. In desperation he’d turned to the ancient stories of the land he did not belong to but had taken by force – stories and traditions he’d tried to obliterate in his bigotry. The traditions of the people that he had enslaved but that his son had embraced in his early youth had provided the answer – the curse his son bore was his redemption – the curse that would give him what he longed for, eternal life. 

On the wind behind him he can hear the deep bawl of the hounds his father’s released coming ever closer as they track him, their prey, baying for his blood, the blood that once in his father’s possession will give him the immortality he craves and result in his own death. So now he runs away from death when before he’d run towards it. 

His memory returns him to that morning a month ago, to the harsh light forcing itself through the windows of a bedroom in a house full of the unkind and their secrets. The feel of the only woman he’s ever loved, the woman he’d vowed to protect pressed close against his body, her midnight hair caressing his face.

“I’ve run from the darkness for so long, only to find myself in a place darker still. Walk with me.” Her voice which seemed to contain in that moment the pain of the world but still offering him the love and acceptance he’d never felt worthy of but always craved. The fact that she knew what he was and yet was still willing to stand with him, to love both the man and the monster that resided inside him and to place herself and what was caged within her into his keeping, to trust him.

“Stay with me tonight.” Her voice rough with passion, her scent wild as that night on the storm torn moors when he’d held her in his arms and for just a moment as the rain caressed their heated skins had felt the sweetness of her mouth as it melded to his until her fear had got the better of her and she’d pulled away to send him howling in frustration out into the storm. 

And he’d done the same, pulled away from her in his self-loathing and selfishness posing as protection in that, her greatest moment of need. 

He’d run, like a coward not prepared to live with what he’d done, looking for the easy way out at the end of a rope. He’d convinced his mind that it was for her safety, she deserved better than a life spent hunted, a fugitive from his father, the police and every sin that hung round his neck. But his heart knew that was a lie. That he’d been scared by her offer of acceptance and love because she knew the truth. That with her knowledge there was nowhere to hide. He would be defenseless before her. The terror of that realisation had kept him on his self-destructive course, until caged on the boat that returned him to his father's rule. In a blinding moment of clarity he understood that she would be the same before him and he saw in that moment what he’d done, what he’d given up and what he’d forced her to endure. The pain was everything he could ever had hoped for, a great gaping wound that refused to heal but wouldn’t kill him. But what now left him writhing in mental agony was the knowledge that she shared in it. 

He should have stayed, should have kissed her until her lips were swollen under his, tangled his hands into her hair until it fell around them like a curtain of darkness, carried her to her bed, peeled back the layers of clothes to reveal the purity of her ivory skin and there made the life pledging love to her that she deserved and needed in the abject wonder of a man like him being chosen by a woman like her.

But it was too late now, even if he survived this night, outran everything his bastard of a father sent after him, he could never go back.

“Forgive me.” The final words he’d ever said to her before he’d placed his feet on the doomed path he would now forever tread.

And her answer, given so easily, so honestly,

“I do.” would resonate through time because that was one thing he could or would never do.

Forgive himself.

The night was falling quickly now and the darkening air felt thick with fear and hatred. His steps were becoming less assured, fatigue was creeping over his limbs weighing them down and he fell more often. He could feel the panic rising in his chest as the sounds of the hounds and their handlers came ever closer. He could hear the deep throated baying becoming excited, they knew he was close, and it seemed to spur them on faster even as his steps became even less steady. He forced himself to run, crashing though bushes, not trying to camouflage the sound anymore, desperation pulling him ever forward. He could not be caught, he knew that; it was not his death he feared but the destruction and pain his father would wreak on those around him once infected. His father who had never shown a conscience as a man, and once consumed by the beast would have the excuse never to need to. His exhausted brain could think of no viable means of escape until his ears suddenly picked up a sound over the grunts of the dogs and men that followed him mercilessly. It was the clear, clean sound of the river in full rapid.

If he could only get there, reach it before they did, he stood a chance of escape or at worst it would take his body and sweep it away, either to be lost forever or washed up battered and unrecognisable on some far off river bank to be disposed of by the scavengers that roamed the shores, meaning his father would be thwarted. This realization injected new vigor into his shattered body and he threw himself forward towards the sound that ultimately meant his freedom, either in this world or the next.


	2. Die Goeie Lewe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is only a feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We decided on adding Gwen Conliffe, the original "Wolfman love interest", just to spice things up...

London 1989

"...so I thought the paler peach, but maybe the brighter one would be better, I mean more stand out but I don’t want to be showy. You don’t think it’s too showy do you Ethan? Ethan? Ethan! I’m talking to you."

He was brought back to reality suddenly, back from the sound of hunting dogs and icy water burning his skin and found himself sitting confronting a pair of dangerously glittering green eyes.

“What, peach what?” It took him a few seconds to re-orientate himself back from the past and that dreadful night to where he was now seated across from a beautiful but extremely pissed off blonde who looked ready to dump her glass of wine over his head and storm out, something given her temper was entirely plausible and looking more possible by the second.

He leant over placing his hand over her dangerously manicured hand and grinned sheepishly at her in a manner which he prayed looked genuine. Why the hell had he ever asked her to marry him he asked himself again.

“Gwen, I’m sorry darlin’, it’s unforgivable of me but this case, it’s got into my head and I just can’t seem to leave it alone. I know, I know..” he countered quickly as he could see her eyes squinting in the way that meant she was close to a complete melt down and what that would bring with it, “…I know baby you’ve got so much on with the wedding being so close and all and I’ve been completely fucking useless but you’ve got my attention now. You were saying about peach.”

“Yes, well thank you Ethan for allowing me a moment of your time. Yes peach for the napkins...,”.

He sat back against the banquette, sipping at a glass of Burgundy and trying to keep his attention on his fiancé, Gwen Conliffe, as she droned on and on about their upcoming wedding and all of the paraphernalia that had suddenly become all-consuming to her. As she talked his eyes swept over the interior of his favourite French restaurant in the heart of Covent Garden, taking in the soft lighting, the gleaming mirrors and the photos and prints from the 1940’s. He’d been coming here for almost 50 years and yet none of the customers, tourists and regulars alike would have guessed that the handsome man, fashionably dressed in a pale grey, loose fitting Italian suit and black t-shirt seated opposite the exquisite blonde, was in fact over 130 year old. His hair, fashionably cut shorter at the sides than previous but longer on top was still a deep chestnut brown and his skin was unlined unless he was smiling or frowning, as now. Ethan Chandler had discovered many years before that the curse that turned him into a dangerous monster at the full moon had come with other issues, namely that he never aged. He had looked in his mid 30’s now for almost 100 years and it seemed that this would never change.

There were other advantages too. He’d realized that as he aged, albeit not physically, that the senses of his alter ego stayed with him and developed in his human form enhancing both his sense of smell and hearing. This had become invaluable in the profession he’d found himself in as a scene of crime officer for the Metropolitan Police. His almost uncanny ability to be able to link victims of crime with their perpetrators had made him something of a legend in the force, highly respected and called upon by other constabularies around the country. The irony of the job he excelled in and loved was not lost on him. For years he’d been a fugitive, running from the law and hating the men that worked in it and yet now counted many of their number as good friends.

He listened as Gwen launched into a seemingly endless tirade against the unfortunate florist who had failed to deliver on the exact shade of whatever flower she had expressly ordered, studying her closely. Yes she was beautiful, she looked like a super model with her blonde hair scraped back off her heavily made up face with its razor sharp cheekbones and pouting mouth, and he knew every man there was thinking he was a lucky bastard. He was still attracted to her on a purely physical level. Christ she could fuck all night with an abandon he’d never experienced before even in his long life. 

She was also incredibly successful working as a trader on the floor of the metal exchange, and he knew well her reputation for ruthlessness and risk taking. That is what had initially attracted him to her, her strength and devil may care attitude, her total lack of regard for money which she spent like water. He’d quickly and willingly embraced the lifestyle, parties, exotic weekends away, high octane thrills, the champagne and drugs that came with it. He’d even felt happy for a while, lost in a bubble of excess and one drunken night after she’d blown him for what seemed like hours he asked her to marry him. He’d woken up the next morning, his head throbbing, carrying the biggest regret of his life and unable to find any way out.

It was then that he truly began to see her for what she was, a total bitch. Her strength a brittle façade that was in fact nothing short of cruelty. Her total lack of regard for the feelings or struggles of others. She was completely self-obsessed, a spoilt little girl the product of a self-indulgent upbringing. And now he was on a one way train to misery and she, so wrapped up in bridesmaid dresses, wedding favours and a pre-wedding crash diet was completely blind to it.

He knew he should have told her immediately that he wasn’t ready. He’d been drunk, try and let her down gently but he’d been too much of a coward and now with only weeks to go he was looking at the reality of a lifetime of wedded un-bliss with a woman who he’d never really been in love with.

The real reason was he was already in love and felt he would always be. Even though decades had past and he knew that she was long gone, he was still in love with his Scorpion. Every time he saw raven hair or blue eyes or smelt the intense herbal aroma of a spliff he was taken back to the few months he’d spent in her presence, which had marked him inexorably and possibly ruined him for anyone else. 

Vanessa Ives had been everything that Gwen was not and maybe that was what initially drew him to her. It was also the reason he would never be satisfied or happy with her or could never imagine being like that with anyone else because no one he'd since met matched up to the image he held onto. He knew that Vanessa had been flawed, that she was far from the perfection his memory cast her into but he could not allow himself to see her any other way. He hoped that she had found some happiness, that she had not died alone. That she’d found someone to love her and have children with her because she deserved to be loved despite all she’d done. He had purposely avoided researching her in the archives he had access to, or to look for her final resting place, and he had never returned to the house on the moor where for those few days with her he’d found perfect happiness.

He suddenly realized that Gwen had stopped talking but they were not alone at the table. Pierre the owner was standing by his chair looking apologetic.

“Ethan, I am sorry to interrupt you and your beautiful lady, but there has been an urgent call for you.” He handed Ethan a piece of paper with a name and number all too familiar.

“Gwen, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to take this. Is there somewhere I can take this in private?”

Pierre smiled, “My office has a telephone. Let me bring Gwen another drink and keep her company whilst you take the call, which I am sure you will make quick for how could you leave such a beauty for long?”

He smiled his thanks, brushed a quick kiss across Gwen’s cheek and walked behind the bar to the tiny office.

The phone was answered on the second ring.

“Ethan, thank God. I know you’re with Gwen but you’ve got to come now. I’ve never seen anything like this and we are going to need the best to try and make some sense of it.” Inspector John Russell, a man that Ethan deeply respected and liked, sounded like someone who’d just looked down the jaws of death.

“Give me the details.”

“It’s a multiple murder. Five women in a house in Farringdon. They’ve been slaughtered by all accounts, it’s a fucking blood bath. But the thing is it looks like it’s some kind of cult thing.”

“Cult thing?” Ethan felt his blood run cold even before he heard his friend say,

“They’re all bald and they look like they’ve been branded with, I don’t really fucking know but occult symbols or something, pentagrams and that shit. Ethan, you better get your arse over here now.”

Ethan put the phone down after taking down the address. His memory took him back to a freezing night just after Christmas in London 1891. The steaming entrails of a butchered horse, Vanessa’s voice screaming harsh words into the bitter air and women, bald, branded, scarred women. Nightcomers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with Carpe Noctem, we will post as we go, so watch this space ;)


	3. Onder die Donker Maan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts from the past and Shadows of the future.

Two days later he was still reeling, the images branded indelibly in his mind. It had been worse than John's telephone call had implied. It looked like the five women had been attacked with a chainsaw, hacked and dismembered limbs strewn like refuse in a room that ran with seeming rivers of blood. But it was their faces, or lack of them. The front of their heads had been obliterated, the flesh, skin and muscle ripped clean off, leaving the horror of bloody grinning skulls, eyeballs still staring out of lidless sockets. On first seeing the carnage, Will - his assistant, a normally tough and collected 25 year old ex-soldier had had to leave the room, probably to void his stomach. Ethan himself was glad he’d got the call before he’d started eating, the wine he’d consumed had felt sour in his stomach and churned uncomfortably throughout his evidence gathering. It brought images back of that first night work he’d done for Sir Malcolm. The stinking cellar, the foul odor of rotting bodies thick with gore and Vanessa standing there, shockingly at home, framed in piles of mutilation.

They were Nightcomers, of that there was no doubt, all of the marks were there just as he remembered. Their flesh torn and rent in life by the claws of the beast they offered their bodies and souls in service to. The room which was locked from the inside, under the cloying scent of blood, stunk of magic unassailable to anyone else but him. The detectives assigned to the case were at a loss, no weapons, no sign of forced entry, no witnesses and yet the utter annihilation of five women. He’d heard the whispered conversations, the disbelief at the scene and the victims as he took his notes and photographed the room and the bodies. He himself could hardly get his head around the fact that history seemed to be repeating itself. That the battle between the covens of light and dark were still playing out in modern day London.

But it was not just the horror he’d witnessed in that room that had caused the two practically sleepless nights he faced, and the fact that at 10.30 in the morning two days later he was sitting in his local cafe drinking black coffee liberally but surreptitiously laced with brandy. Under the sharp coppery tang of blood and the sickly aroma of magic, his enhanced senses had picked up another trace so faint that he could have believed himself mistaken if the other links hadn’t been there. It was the wild smell that vibrates in the air after a storm of great magnitude, the fragrance that had lived deep inside him for decades. It was scent of her skin and hair, undeniably and yet to his aching brain unbelievable. 

How could she have been there? He knew that Nightcomers gained eternal youth in return for their submission. But in her case that very submission to the fallen angel would have spelt the end of the world, and since the world was still turning very much in the way it always had, that also could not be the reason. He must have been mistaken and yet he knew deep down that he was not, that somewhere and somehow she still existed. That Vanessa Ives had defied, as had he, the normal passage of human years and still walked under the same sky and was still involved in the eternal battle between good and evil. 

"Shit." His head felt like it was full of rocks. He couldn’t assimilate this information or cope with how it made him feel. He knew she had been capable of great evil, he’d seen it with his very eyes the night she’d set Sir Geoffrey Hawkes’ dogs to tear him to pieces in revenge for the death of her beloved mentor. But to think she was capable of such ruthless destruction, even of her enemies, shocked him to his very core. And then the other thing. To see her again after all of this time. To come face to face with her, to look into the endless blue of her eyes and see God only knows what there, he felt elated and sick at the same time.

“Fuck.” His hand slammed down on the table, rattling the half empty mug and making the girl at the table a few over in front of the dimly lit booth he’d secreted himself in - and the only other customer in the place - look up from the book that she had been reading intently. 

He watched her for a short while, trying to clear his mind of Vanessa and the Nightcomers. She was pretty in an elfin kind of way. Her brown, curly hair cropped short, framing her face and her green eyes heavily lined with black kohl that made them look enormous in the pale round. There was something about her that intrigued him, not in a sexual way as she was no more than 17. She appeared to have an old soul and there was an innate power in her the like of which he’d felt before, namely in Vanessa and the witch's daughter Hecate. Was it a coincidence that he found himself drawn here, to this exact place where a woman like her also found herself?

The effects of the brandy started to course through his sleep deprived body and brain, and he realised that he needed to eat, and then try and sleep so he could make some sense out of what had occurred over the last 48 hours. Also he needed to phone Gwen, something he’d been avoiding since his realisation that Vanessa was somehow involved. She’d left message after message of increasing anger on his answerphone, both at his office and the small flat he still kept despite having moved in with her a year before, and he knew he would not be able to fob her off with calls from Will and bunches of apology flowers for much longer. 

He’d just turned in the booth to retrieve his battered leather jacket from the floor where it had fallen when he heard the door of the café open bringing in a blast of cold air. He lifted his head just in time to see a back view of a small, delicately made woman with raven curls cascading down her back almost to her tiny waist, pass him and make her way to greet the young girl who she embraced joyfully. He felt that familiar stirring that he always did when he saw a woman like Vanessa but then the scent that he’d caught just the hint of in that room of horror was filling every pore. He felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. All his emotions and senses went into overdrive because this was not just a woman that resembled Vanessa Ives, this was Vanessa Ives. He wondered for a moment if his thoughts of her had somehow caused her to materialize like a phantom from the past. But she was no phantom, she was there, living and breathing and although he could not see her face he knew it would look exactly the same as it had that dreadful morning when he’d rubbed his thumbs over the curves and edges of it, trying to hold it there as the last beautiful thing he thought he’d ever see.

He was frozen to the seat, he couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. He was less than 20 steps away from her, 20 steps from clasping her in his arms and begging her over and over to forgive him, to love him and never, ever let him go. Yet the years, the pain, the abandonment stood between him and her like an unassailable barrier, one that he could never cross. He knew he should just get up, leave the café, London, the country but it was impossible. It was as if her presence so close and yet unattainably far held him captive. 

He saw the young girl leaning towards her, pushing the book he’d noticed her reading before towards Vanessa and watched her face change, the joy at Vanessa’s arrival turning to a look of intense concern. Leaning back into the shadow of the booth he couldn’t help, with the advantage of his wolf enhanced hearing, listening in on their whispered conversation.

The deep, precise timbre of her voice was as he remembered it and it sent a stab of longing for her straight to his loins, “…. hush child. I know that what I propose to do is dangerous but it is a risk I have to take both for myself and for mankind. Until he is captured I will never be safe and neither will the world. He still hunts me, looking for any weakness that will cleave me to him and to start the apocalypse and I can’t let that happen. I thought the Obsidian would work, it should have worked, I was so careful in the forging. But something was wrong and this mistake almost cost me everything.”

The girl, Cathy, nodded and pressed the book into Vanessa’s delicate hands the fingers of which were loaded with silver rings that seemed familiar to Ethan. But he could not think of why and listened more intently as the girl spoke, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

“The crystal itself was fine but there was one element missing that you needed to bind him to it. Blood.”

“But I used blood.” Vanessa sounded confused, angry and the girl retreated back in her chair her eyes glinting with tears. “Cathy I’m sorry I don’t mean to be harsh, I’m just so tired. I feel so alone, so helpless.” Her hands cupped the face of the girl sitting over from her and she pressed a tender kiss onto the girl’s mouth.

Ethan’s wolf snarled in jealously deep inside in protest at the gesture of affection bestowed on someone else although he had no right to feel that way. 

“I know Vanessa, I’m sorry, I wish I could do more to help. I wish I’d got to you sooner. I know you used blood but it was the type of blood that was the key. Ordinary blood would only tempt him, bring him, hold him in thrall for a while but only the blood of an immortal with ties to him would bind him completely, enslave him to the crystal. Only the blood of a powerful immortal has the strength needed to contain and cage an entity such as he. Blood like yours, or...”

He heard Vanessa’s voice harden, “Or Hecate's...” And then she stopped as she saw the young girl nod pressing a black painted nail to one of the pages of the book that Vanessa still held. 

“I learned more, though. There is a price to pay. Always there’s a price to pay. When Lucifer’s essence joins with the blood of the immortal in that moment they will forever lose their immortality, they will retain the ability to harness their blood to a degree, but they will eventually age, albeit somewhat slower than usual. And they will die. Something else I found,” she turned a few pages, "you may also bind Lucifer to a living host to strengthen the ritual. Exorcising him from the host forcibly with blood magic would weaken him considerably, but it will also drain the host's vitality, leaving them near death." Cathy's voice radiated with power as if she were stating a prophecy.

"It might come to that, but if he leaves the host all on his own during the ritual..?" Vanessa contemplated coolly.

"Then the willing sacrifice of the last drop of life's blood..."

Ethan couldn't believe what he was hearing. How far could she have fallen to even consider sacrificing someone's life without showing a hint of remorse or doubt? His hand tightened around the cup containing his alcohol-laced beverage, the thick ceramic shattering in his grip the shards cutting deep enough into the palm to draw blood. The sound drew Cathy's attention, and it seemed Vanessa’s as well.

Before he could think or react, pull himself further into the shadow she had stood, turned and her eyes like blazing sapphires had found him and were holding him in an astonished gaze.

“Ethan.” Her voice cracked as they stood staring at the other for what seemed like hours, and a single tear fell, running down the alabaster of her cheek.

His brain was frozen with what he could only describe as fear and disillusionment and then his deepest animal instincts took over. He burst from the booth flinging himself towards the door which he tore open and on hitting the pavement ran like the very devil was after him.


	4. Verbode Vrugte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fancy meeting you here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the long read.

“I don’t fucking care that there was a bank holiday I need the fucking proofs over here in an hour. If I have to come over there and get them the next trip you will be making is to A&E to have your developing equipment surgically removed from where the fucking sun don’t shine.” He slammed the phone down onto the cradle with such force it was a miracle it didn’t smash into pieces.

“Will, get in here.” He shouted into the reception area in front of his office and heard his assistant scrape his chair back.

He’d barely got through the door when Ethan was on him, “Where are we with the blood analysis on the Farringdon murders, I thought they were meant to be back this morning I told you to chase them up. Do I have to do every fucking thing myself?”

Silently the buzz cut, immaculately dressed young man extracted a manila folder from the chaos that Ethan had made of his desk and pushed it towards him.

“I’ve also had the witness statements faxed over from Scotland Yard together with the final autopsy report from the coroner.” His southern Irish accent that usually Ethan found pleasant grated on his jangled nerves.

“Well where the fuck are they why didn’t you give them straight to me when I got here? For Christ sake Will what’s wrong with you? Get your shit in the game will you……” his voice trailed off as his assistant lent over to extract yet another folder marked urgent from under the phone Ethan had so recently abused and handed it over. He pulled himself to attention, his handsome face passive and his grey eyes expressionless.

“Anything else…….sir?” His voice lacked any emotion but Ethan recognised the steely control of a seriously pissed off and potentially dangerous individual.

“No, thanks……sorry.” His apology was barely audible. Will spun on his heel and practically marched out of the office shutting the door behind him with an over pronounced click that spoke volumes.

Ethan knew he was behaving unreasonably and why. It had been over 24 hours since he’d laid eyes on the woman he had thought he’d lost forever and he couldn’t get the sight, sound and scent of her out of his head. He was awash with emotions that he could barely comprehend. The violence of them scared him and he was struggling to separate the utter elation of finding her still alive with the disgust and horror at what she seemed to have got involved with and her seemingly lack of emotional attachment to her race. What had happened to make her so cold that she could willingly and without any remorse so calmly discuss sacrificing another human being even one so evil as Hecate Poole? And in the years since he’d seen her how many others, maybe innocents had she willingly and uncaringly deposed of? The horror of that dreadful room slammed to the forefront of his mind, her scent underlying the coppery tang that still hung in his nostrils. What power did she now possess that she could decimate another creature so entirely, even her enemies? And why would she want to? He knew she’d dealt in death before, but was her soul so corrupt that she could be involved in something so horrific? He wanted to scream in frustration.

And then there was Gwen. If he’d been having doubts about the wedding before seeing Vanessa then they were ten-fold now. The thought of touching Gwen, kissing her let alone fucking her disgusted him, it would be like a violation of his body and soul now that he knew the truth about the raven haired beauty that haunted his every hour. And yet did he really want to be with a woman who could be so utterly heartless? Would she want to see him after his display at the café where he’d run like a coward from her when every fibre of his being had wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

He picked up the phone and began to ring Gwen’s number but then realised he had no idea what he would say to her and couldn’t cope with another screaming tantrum. He slammed the receiver back down again and then in a fit of rage picked up the entire unit, flinging it against the wall where it smashed with a satisfying crash.

“Fucking bullshit!” He yelled in frustration and clawed his hands into his hair, his mind spinning and his body craving the oblivion of the whiskey bottle despite it being two hours before midday.

He shoved his chair back, moving away from the desk where temptation lurked in the bottom drawer like a spider, to stand at the window, his hands white knuckled against the window sill. He looked out of the window of his tiny office his eyes scanning but barely seeing the building opposite swathed in scaffolding and tarpaulin under conversion into apartments or offices, his brain alive with images, feelings and sounds that taunted him like nightmares.

A knock at his office door interrupted him from his dark thoughts.

“Leave me the fuck alone Will.” 

He heard the handle turn but before he could whip round to confront his assistant with a torrent of abuse, that scent, her scent that was tattooed into his system was all around him and he knew that she was there, at the door. The shock of her presence and the way they were standing exactly mirroring that last morning a century before almost brought him to his knees, he could feel his whole body shaking. Slowly he turned around, his eyes yearning to see her and yet hardly able to confront the reality. 

She was framed as he knew she would be in the doorway, half way through the threshold, her eyes warm and a smile playing on her lips. He let his gaze sweep over her, her delicate figure dressed simply in a tulip shaped black skirt and a long line deep burgundy colored jacket over a white t-shirt. Her hair was caught back low at the nape of her neck, tendrils framing her practically makeup free face. Round her neck she wore a long chain containing various charms including a crucifix. Her hands still loaded with rings were playing with it, the only sign that she was not as in control as she seemed.

The air between them was thick with emotion, unsaid words, undiscovered feelings and yet he could say nothing, just let his eyes feast on her, the fact that she was here and had somehow despite every effort he’d put in place to remain hidden unless he wanted to be found, had. He had to resist the impulse to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness for every moment of hurt he’d ever caused her and to tell her that despite his abandonment he still, always had and always would love her. His eyes flicked to her hands again and noticed that the one not playing with the charm was clutching something which he suddenly recognized as a piece of white ceramic mug. The same white ceramic mug that he’d broken in the café where he’d learnt that she was still alive; a piece smeared with his blood.

She saw the glance of his eyes downwards towards her hands and her face split into that rare but achingly familiar grin that tore at his very heart strings.

“Blood magic. I’ve developed it past just protection glyphs. I can control it, form it and use it to track down…” her voice faltered for a moment “old friends?”

His eyes returned again to her hands and to the rings that seemed too heavy for the delicate digits that they loaded. She’d never worn rings before, always liking her flesh free to feel, to touch. They seemed so familiar, something that had struck him on seeing her in the café; a memory hovered in the back of his mind reluctant to surface but impossible to stop. A memory that he’d quashed, a night that he’d attempted to forget. Those rings worn by another’s delicate hands, hands that explored, caressed and brought undeniable pleasure to his body. The hands of a beautiful boy.

“Dorian Gray.”

Her hands clenched and her eyes returned to his, he saw in them a flash of something he struggled to recognize, it seemed so alien.

“He gave them to you?” He could hear the slight note of jealousy in his voice.

“I plucked them from his cold, dead fingers. I wear them not as a fond memory, it is not what you think believe me my……” her voice died as he dropped his head avoiding her eyes. He couldn’t bear for her to see the need which he knew was naked in his eyes.

"How are you here, after all this time? All of this, everything I've seen in the past 24 hours... Am I dreaming? Are you a dream?" He hated how pathetic he sounded, so weak in front of her who he knew needed him to be strong. He was meant to be her fucking protector.

Before he knew it she was standing in front of him her hand raised to cup his face, her fingers brushing over the scruff that covered his jawline.

"Does that feel like a dream?" Her voice was soft and gentle, her touch becoming firmer causing his skin to heat under the pressure of her caress. Again he had to fight the urge to crush her to him to meld her form to his own.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm not entirely sure why, but I am." He heard rather than saw her smile and his heart clenched that she could be so understanding after what he’d done, the pain he must have caused her.

"I abandoned you. I'm sorry, Vanessa."

"It's alright..." Her fingers found his chin and with a gentle force she raised his head to find his eyes.

"I wanted to come back, I tried but I thought it was too late." He paused for a moment, his voice faltering under the overwhelming emotions. "I mourned you."

"I'm here now." This statement of truth so simply said sent an arrow straight to his heart.

"Fuck. I don't even know what to say. I went over a million things in my head over and over again, thinking of what I would say if I ever saw you again, but seeing you right here and now... What can I say, except..."

"Except?" Again the gentle smile on her face was enough to undo him.

He turned not wanting to face her so he didn’t have so see the expression on her face just in case it shifted past the warm smile into something that would smash his already damaged heart into a million pieces.

"I've missed you. I don't care what you've done or what you're doing. I don't give a shit about anything right now except hearing you say you've missed me too."

Suddenly her touch was back, her hand on the back of his neck her fingers threading through his hair bringing with it a peace that he’d not felt in years.

“Look at me Ethan, please look at me, see me when I tell you that… I've missed you too."

He couldn’t resist the pull of her voice, so soft but resonating with power and he turned to find her within inches of him her hand still holding his neck her eyes boring into his own but now flooded with tears that began to cascade down the white of her cheeks. Without thinking and with the old familiar gesture he brought his hands up to cup her face using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that hung like crystal on the white satin. Slowly he lowered his forehead to rest against hers, the feeling of her skin, her scent overwhelming.

“I’m engaged Vanessa, I’m getting married in two months.” He didn’t know why he said it then it seemed to fall from his lips without his brain registering it.

“I know.” She drew back her hand moving from his neck the fingers of both her hands circling his wrists that still held her face. “We need to talk, we’ve got a lot to catch up on – a century to share. Shall we walk?”

Silently he followed her out of the door into the reception where he told Will to postpone his afternoon meetings and then go home himself. It was the best sort of apology he could offer.

“Shall we go down by the river, it’s a beautiful day and it should be fairly quiet.” He nodded his ascent and they began to walk side by side down the narrow cobbled street, her heels clicking on the stones. Suddenly she stumbled and he put out a hand catching her elbow easily to steady her.

He stopped and a grin suddenly lit up his face and on a sudden impulse he offered her his arm as he had a century past. 

“Miss Ives?” Her eyes glowed in seemly delight as she threaded her hand through his offered arm and rested her hand on top of his wrist, cool against the heat of his flesh.

As they walked she asked about his work and he could barely answer her questions focused as he was on the sunlight that added iridescent highlights to her hair and the feeling of her arm linked through his, her body brushing along his side. He had always thought that although the darkness was her element she never looked more beautiful than she did when she was outside in the sunshine. He’d always seen her as a force of nature.

He could hardly believe that she was with him, so normal, so natural. He had to fight the impulse to laugh, dance even down the road. 

Halfway across the aluminium bridge that took them to the promenade by the river she spoke again. “Tell me about your life after you left London. I tried to find you but you just disappeared. I know your reasons, you left to save me because you felt I would be safer, but you never really understood or appreciated your true role. I know what Hecate told you but even she with her links to Lucifer didn’t totally understand what you were, your power. Her implications for meddling were in service to the dark one but as a result of it she suffered, believe me.”

So he told her of his extradition to America by Inspector Rusk believing that once there he would suffer the death he craved at the end of a rope for all the crimes he’d committed. But his father’s influence and money had put pay to that. At first his father had seemed to welcome him but soon he realized that he had an agenda and once learnt – that he wanted to infect himself with the curse that plagued his son as he’d found out it would give him the immortality he craved, he’d run flinging himself in desperation into the Delaware River.

“Two days later I was washed up on the east shore in New Jersey. I was found very near death by an elderly trapper who lived like a hermit on the marshes. He nursed me back to health and I stayed with him, posing as his son and then when people started becoming suspicious of how I didn't age, he passed me off as his grandson. He was a good man. Samuel Allen. Over time he learned my secret but he accepted it without question or horror. He taught me to live a simple life, to accept what I was. I stayed with him for over 20 years and when he died in the September of 1916 I buried him on the marshes that had been his only home for almost 80 years.”

“He will always be with you” her voice was full of empathy for his obvious pain and loss and her fingers tips brushed the skin of his wrist, “where did you go then?”

“War, any war, I moved from place to place, country to country, picking a side, Mexico, The Balkans, France, Spain fighting for any cause. Trying to find a cause something to live for, something to make sense of what I was, who I wanted to be.” He paused for a moment barely wanting to tell her but knowing she deserved the truth, “I found Sembene.”

They arrived at the river front quiet before the lunchtime rush the restaurants and cafés that were set back starting to set up for service. He led her to stand against the railings the breeze cool over the water. She shivered and without thinking he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her closer to him, running his hand up and down the arm of her jacket. For a moment she seemed to stiffen but almost immediately relaxed, pressing herself closer against him and a sigh, almost imperceptible escaped her mouth.

He continued. “I was in Spain fighting for the Republicans against Franco. My unit had been decimated and it was too dangerous for me to stay. I knew too much if I’d been captured. I managed to escape to Morocco where I continued fighting against the fascists but then suddenly, early one morning about a month after arriving, I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I knew I had to leave, I had to go south. It took weeks but eventually I found myself drawn to a small village in Senegal. Christ, I knew something was wrong as soon as I entered the village. It was empty of any life human or animal. And silent, not even birds or insects seemed to be there. I found him in the middle of the village sitting on a pile of bones. I couldn’t believe it, to see him alive after what I’d done. I ran towards him but it wasn’t him. His eyes were white as death, no recognition in them, no humanity, just a mindless need to destroy. He almost killed me.”

Vanessa turned her head for a moment, resting it against his shoulder, her other arm coming round his chest to clutch at his shirt, joy flickered through him at her closeness. “Sir Malcolm couldn't accept his death. He was a flawed man, but I had never expected him to so blindly act on such a careless whim. He cared for Sembene, more than we knew. Enough to entrust his resurrection to a power he must have known would pervert the life it returned to him. He simply wanted to help, yet he only made things worse. Little did he know what evil he allowed to gain shape in the world through what he thought was just a simple spell.” She paused her voice becoming softer almost like the words she spoke spun their own spell.

“The door was opened in Salem long ago. Girls fascinated by the dark stories of demons and virgins spoken from the mouth of the woman known as Tituba. A vain, foolish woman who in her despair at her enslaved state never truly understood the knowledge she’d been cursed with and what would be the result of the events that these stories began. So many innocents died accused of worshiping Satan and the thin veil that held the ultimate horror back was thinned even more allowing an essence to creep, a presence that would with the correct sequence of events bring about the end of the world. He never know that the resurrection of Sembene, a direct descendant of Tituba, would allow that evil to form, to give it life in the guise of a death spell. Necro that with its brothers who we know as the four horsemen now walks our world searching for a host, a being of purity that they can cleave to and use to start the apocalypse. I pray that they never find one for what horrors that poor innocent child would be capable of.” 

Her eyes and voice returned to the present and she smiled sadly. “Sir Malcolm met his end not long after at the hands of a more graceful, but not altogether different breed from the creatures that took Mina from him. His final words whispered were a prophecy, one of which I am not yet certain...” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “So how did you escape from Sembene or the atrocity he’d become through the practise of Necromancy?”

“He had me by the neck and I could not break his hold even when out of nowhere I began to change. Then suddenly, out from the dark came this other man, terribly scarred, skin like plaster and eyes the color of sand.”

He heard her intake of breath and placed his hand over hers still caught in his shirt front.

“I know he was your friend, I did wonder if somehow you’d sent him to me, but later he told me that he had had an overwhelming need to go to the same village too, a need he couldn’t explain or ignore. Sembene pursued us relentlessly, never further than a few hours behind. He was beyond human, didn’t need to sleep or eat. We knew we had to eradicate him and so one night we set a trap. A pit lined with sharp stakes and covered over. He fell straight in trying to reach me and was impaled. We buried him whilst he was still struggling. It took days. John and I travelled together for a while, but after a few months he disappeared without a word one night and I never saw him again. I’d like to thank him one day, I wouldn’t have survived without him. He was a good man.”

He watched as a gentle smile lit up her face, “The best of men despite his birth. So when did you return to England?”

“After World War Two. I spent the war years in the States and managed to gain access to my father’s money, he’d died without an heir. It was a messy drawn out business but fruitful eventually. When I got back here I first set up as a Private Detective. My lycanthropy has given me certain... advantages and eventually in another re-incarnation, the one you see before you I became a freelance SOCO. I’ve been working for the Met for about 5 years now.”

“Well Mr. Chandler that is a turn up for the books, you working for the police after everything!” Her voice rang with amusement and he joined her laughing himself, pulling her further into an embrace, turning to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her hair.

“Believe me darlin, the irony ain’t lost on me! And how about you? How are you here looking not a day older? What’s your story Miss Ives?” 

He felt her tense and pull away, extricating herself from the circle of his arms. She had become cold and remote again and he regretted asking. He had to stop himself from pulling her towards him, that one embrace had awoken a longing in him that he was finding difficult to fight.

For a long moment she looked out over the river, her eyes lost in the past and he ached for her pain. Her voice was expressionless as she began to speak and he knew that he would not be able to interrupt her, if she stopped she could or would never begin again. Her story was one to be told only once.

“When you all left me in the mansion I was lost, broken. I didn’t know what to do, how to walk alone. I could find no reason not just to open a vein, end the blackness my life had become. I shunned God and craved an alternative when Hecate found me. She offered me a reason to live, the alternative that I desired, she said she needed me. I now know that she manipulated me and that she had her own agenda but at the time, so mewed up in my own loathing toward myself and God, I was vulnerable to her charms and although I didn’t fully trust her, I had nothing else. Together we formed a coven and gathered the like-minded around us. We became sisters and eventually lovers. Together we harnessed enough magic to make ourselves immortal and gained the power to wield our blood like a weapon. But still Lucifer haunted me, was there in the back of my mind, ever scratching relentlessly like a spoilt child. I formed a plan to capture him and Hecate agreed to help. I thought that if I could trap him, force his essence into a crystal prison I could eliminate the threat to me and ultimately to mankind. So I forged an Obsidian crystal and set the trap with me as the bait. He came willingly, arrogant that I would surrender to him. We had him, my blood had him trapped in a harness but at the last moment the crystal failed, Cathy whom you saw me with explained why and he broke free, his dark essence tore through my blood and awakened the darkness inside me. I became a goddess, omniscient. In this guise I slaughtered my coven sisters, apart from Hecate who’d used her blood magic to morph away as the crystal failed and then I hunted down Dorian. My powers had shown me what he’d done, what he was, corrupt, evil and twisted and I knew how to destroy him, immortal as he was. He suffered before he died. I exacted every pain on his body he’d ever inflicted on another living soul before I incinerated his portrait with my mind. He died stripped of every vestige of his youth and beauty. The hideous personification of evil he was, wrapped in chains. His murder manifested the power in me into a kind of insanity. I was hell bent in the annihilation of not only this world but the universe itself. And when I had succeeded I would have then consumed myself leaving nothing but blackness, a void of despair where the souls of the innocent and guilty alike would scream voiceless and unheard throughout the time that was not or never had been. God knows would have happened if John had not found me. He brought me back. He was the mirror of Dorian except his was a beautiful soul trapped inside a hideous shell. At first I didn’t recognise him but there was something about him, a purity of spirit that staid my hand and my mind from obliterating him. He reminded me of my humanity, the fact that I was ‘the most human woman he’d ever met’ – similar words to the ones I had once said to him. It brought me back across madness and time and for that I am ever grateful. If mankind knew how much they owe this man that so many are repulsed by. He stayed with me for a short while but when Hecate found me, begging on her knees for another chance he left. He could not stay in her presence. He has kept in contact over the years, by letter or visit but I have not seen him for a long while and I pray that he is safe.” She sighed then and her hand returned to worry the chain around her neck.

"After our reunion Hecate and I began again to forge another crystal to trap Lucifer but I then found that she had different plans for him if we succeeded. I wanted to destroy him, obliterate his essence and memory from the world, but she wanted to use him to gain true immortality and domination over mankind. We argued and she swore as I left the coven that she would hunt me down and destroy me. We have been fighting a war ever since, a war which you have seen first-hand some of the casualties of. I know you went to the house in Farringdon and saw the horror I exacted upon those you found there. Yes it was me and me alone and I understand your revulsion and disbelief. But believe me if you knew what obscenities they had resorted to you would understand. They had moved on from just sacrificing children to harvest their organs to use in their spells. They were using them in rituals, sick depraved rituals involving the worst kind of person, men and women who prey on children, who abuse them. I had to stop them and stop them I did.”

She turned then to look at him, her blue eyes gazing intently into his. He reached for her but she shook her head refusing to come closer.

“No Ethan, as you said you are just about to be married. I should never have allowed myself to get physically close to you but I just could not help it. For a few moments I could dream what might have been between us, but I am not the woman I was. There is more evil inside me than you know and I truly am dangerous. Even by coming to see you I have put your life in peril and those you care for. Hecate does not care who she hurts to get to me. You have heard my story and me yours. We must now return to your office as I need to retrieve the shard of pottery with your blood which I so foolishly left on your desk. Its presence there will enable her to find you eventually if she decides to look. I must take it with me and destroy it. And then I must leave you to continue the life you’ve built for yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I just say I am so proud of my co-author. She did a spectacular job with this chapter and took my somewhat perfectionist direction extremely well. Big kudos to you scorpionmother x


	5. Donker Siele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past has a way of repeating itself.

The life he’d build for himself, what life? Yes he loved his job, the satisfaction and comradeship it offered him, the idea that he was using his curse to make a difference, to make the world a better place but other than that he had nothing. Nothing without her. He knew now that he could never go back to Gwen, that he could never even pretend friendship with her let alone marry her, not after what had passed between him and his Scorpion. He could still feel the silk of Vanessa’s skin on his fingertips as if they’d been branded, the way her body fitted so perfectly into the shelter of his arms. It was as if those last 100 years had never been, had not passed. She was meant for him and he needed to convince her of that in any way that he could. He could not let her leave so easily, not without a fight. And fight he would tooth and claw.

The silence stretched between them all the way back to his offices. She seemed distracted, had withdrawn from him totally, the warmth and elation of the previous hours seemed to have disappeared almost as if it had never been, that he had imagined it and yet he could sense a disquiet in her, her hand returning again and again to the chain around her neck as if it were some kind of protection. The beast inside him could feel the conflict deep inside her. The woman she was had locked iron barriers into place yet the demon inside her rebelled against them. Like the wolf that dwelt inside him it hungered, hungered for more, hungered for him.

The sun had retreated behind black clouds as finally they reached his Mill Street offices, the street empty of people avoiding the sudden change in the weather. As he turned the key in the lock to his intense joy fat drops of rain started to fall from the slate grey. He watched as her face turned upwards towards the sky, an amused look flickered over her profile that had previously been so cold.

“It looks like the weather is against me leaving. Maybe I could shelter for a short while if I won’t be in your way?” Her voice was light but again he could sense that underlying tension that radiated through his senses, heightened not only by the beast inside him but by her very presence.

Will had left and the office was swathed in gloom as the rain began beat down harder against the large leaded windows. He stood in the doorway between the office and reception watching her, his heart in his mouth. She had already retrieved the ceramic shard from his desk stowing it in her jacket pocket and she hovered by the window looking out as the sky darkened further and an ominous roll of thunder rumbled in the heavens. The silence between them was almost tangible in the electrified air between them. He saw her stiffen her hands, clutching the window sill as he remembered how that night long ago on the moors she had admitted her love of storms and had experienced for a moment the passion they unleashed within her.

“If the shard was so important, so dangerous then why did you leave it on my desk, Vanessa? Why didn’t you keep it safe, keep it with you? You have always been so careful, a mistress of detail, in complete control. You would never make a mistake like that unless you meant to. Unless you had a reason to.”

He watched as she half turned her head towards his voice which he struggled to keep soft and low, the passion for her building. He saw her fingertips begin to drum against the stone.

“What do you mean?” 

“Only that I think you wanted a reason to come back. Despite what you said, you don’t want to leave me now, you can’t. Like me you are fighting a need deep inside, a want that has been dormant for a century but hit you like a sledgehammer just as it did me the moment you saw me in that café. I can hear it in every word you utter, I smell it on your skin even from here.”

Slowly he began to move toward her and the air between them seemed to crackle like the lightning that arced across the ever blackening sky. 

“You spoke of taking Hecate as your lover and I believe that she was not the first or the last woman you welcomed into you bed. But how many men Vanessa, how many men have laid their hands on your naked body? How many men have felt you, watched you come undone around them? How many men since that night on the moors when I held you hard to me in the storm and your rain-drenched body knew what my body wanted?” His voice was a soft growl and he was now standing, his chest so close, almost touching her back watching her shoulders rise and fall, hearing her battling the breath into her lungs.

“How many men Vanessa?”

She knew there was safety in her silence and she clung to it, he could feel her desperation, her resolve that he always remembered as so strong but now, under his onslaught rocking like a tree in a gale.

“How many Vanessa? How many men have you had since you pushed me away in your fear? How many?” 

“None.” The word seemed to tear from her mouth.

She turned then her face white against the darkness outside the window but her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowing, the pupils so dilated that the blue was all but obliterated. Waves of heat flooded from her body and the musk of her arousal was heavy in the air. The plushness of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. He leant in then placing his hands against the glass of the window, his breath whispering across her neck knowing the bulk of his body was dominating her, leaving her nowhere to go. He felt her shudder and he pressed closer, his lips grazing the side of her neck.

“Why?”

“Because I only ever wanted you.”

The wolf howled with triumph but with a sudden burst of strength she placed her hands against his chest and shoved him backwards allowing her to escape from the cage of his arms and body to slip round to the front of his desk.

“Ethan we can’t. We can’t go there again. We can’t give in to our basest desires, we cannot do this however much our bodies crave it. You are engaged, you said it yourself. In two months you are going to make a binding commitment to a woman you love and I will not, cannot come between another couple. I have lived what seems like an eternity with that sin on my back and the consequences it brought with it not just for me but every other person involved. The sequence of events that bloomed from that act of lust that I, and every person I’ve ever loved suffered for. I cannot cause that kind of suffering again. I will not be responsible again.” Her face and voice were full of barely suppressed panic but she didn’t move any further away.

He could see her conflicting emotions. Her head was telling her to run but her heart wanted to stay and it was her heart that he appealed to now.

“I will never marry her or anyone Vanessa, not now, not ever. I’ve never loved Gwen, I don’t know why I ever asked her, I don’t actually think I really even like her. I was lonely, I thought I’d lost you forever, that you were dead, you were supposed to be dead for Christ sake. I know it was wrong but as soon as the words were out of my mouth I couldn’t take them back and before I knew it I was caught up in a fucking whirlwind of preparations – it was out of control.” He took a step towards her his hand extended. “If I’d had any idea that you were still alive do you not think I’d have tried to find you? Walked across burning coals to ask you, beg you to forgive me for being such a bloody coward and leaving you alone. I’ve lived with that every day for 100 years and it still hurts Vanessa, as much as it did the moment I walked out of your bedroom.”

He took another step towards her, terrified she'd run and tried to make his voice calm and soft, “But we have a chance, been given a chance to be together. To put the past behind us. To look towards a future, a future where I’ll never leave you again. I will never leave you again Vanessa.”

By now he was standing in front of her and he lifted his hand to run the back of his fingers down her cheek and over her jaw line, he could feel the tension coiled in her, her eyes turned down to the floor. “Vanessa tell me you’re not thinking the same thing. Tell me that you don’t want me like I want you.” He moved slowly but deliberately forward until he had her backed against the edge of the desk and he lowered his head to trace the same path with his lips his fingers had previously. Gently but with possession he placed his hands on her shoulders easing the jacket off them.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” He breathed against her skin.

At that her head snapped up her eyes dark pools of desire burned into his and he saw deep into her soul, every ounce of her passion and lust directed straight at him. Her fingers tangled into his hair and she wretched his head down to crash onto her open mouth. 

The kiss was savage, a battle of lips, teeth and tongues, a hundred years of suppressed need crashed over him. Without thinking or breaking the brutal kiss his hands came round to grab her arse, pulling the tight skirt up over her hips and lifting her onto the desk. The kiss broke her, lips red and swollen, her eyes wanton. He clawed at the waist band of her skirt, pulling the white t-shirt free and wretched it up and over her head and arms that she lifted to reveal a delicate white lace camisole barely covering the heaviness of her breasts, her nipples pearled beneath the fine fabric. He could barely contain himself and in his haste broke the delicate straps revealing her to his burning gaze in her full glory, the taut nipples deep pink and aching for his mouth. His arms swept the desk clear as his body surged forward, forcing her down onto the dark wood of his desk, her stockinged legs wrapping round his hips as his mouth moved to ravish the dark buds. Her head was thrown back, her breathy moans of pleasure ringing in his ears as her fingers wrapped into his hair her nails cut into his scalp and he sucked and nipped at her breasts using his tongue to lave away the sting of his onslaught.

Suddenly she yanked his hair, the burning pain further igniting his passion to totally possess her. His mouth found hers again forcing her lips open as he plunged his tongue deep inside the cavern of her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her hands were tearing at the muscles of his shoulders, pulling his t-shirt up. He broke the kiss again to wrench the fabric from his torso, pulling her away from the desk to crush her breasts against his chest. He could feel the burning heat radiating off their conjoined flesh and hissed as her teeth grazed over the tendons of his neck leading down to junction where his neck joined his shoulders. 

He grabbed her hands securing them in one of his and forcing them over her head as he pushed her back down against the desk where her body arched with pleasure against his. His other hand groped down to find the soft flesh of her thigh between the top of her stockings, his fingers working higher, drifting past the silken fabric of the teddy covering her core which, before he even reached the silken flesh there, he knew was slick with need. His passion raged inside of him and he knew he could wait no longer to be deep inside her. He pulled at the fabric and it parted easily as the poppers that held her underwear together opened. He freed her wrists as she raised herself on her forearms. He ripped open buttons of his jeans and then suddenly her hands were there finding, gripping his heavy erection and helping him pull it free of the confines of his boxer shorts. 

She had moved herself over the edge of the desk and the heat of her core was against the tip of his swollen shaft. Her eyes were huge and he lost himself in the mindless lust he saw there and heard her growl,  
“Fuck me now.”

He grasped her hips and plunged into her, her liquid heat enveloping him, the inner walls of her sheath contracting as she screamed in bliss, her teeth biting down into the flesh of his shoulder, her hands raking across the wide plains of his back. He drove into her once, twice, feeling her meet his passion, her legs wrapped vice-like around his waist. 

And then without warning there was a change. Her eyes seemed to clear, the burning animalistic passion that had almost mutated her features softened into a look of gentle wonder. Her hands delicate now drifted to cup his face and they stilled the frantic thrusting of their bodies to look deep into each other’s eyes, the lust transforming in a spilt second to that of loving care. She raised her mouth, her lips caressing his gently and he responding in kind pressing the gentlest of pressure against her mouth which for the first time since their return curved into a smile. Her hands stroked along his jaw as her mouth moved with infinite care over the edges of his face pressing soft, warm kisses against his cheeks, his nose and onto his eyes which closed under her gentle insistence. He opened them to find the clear blue of her eyes so close to his and brought his arms round her to hold her within the shelter of his love, drinking her in soul deep as she surrounded every physical and emotional part of him and he her. And then in that unspoken agreement between lovers they began to move together in a gentle rocking motion, careful now of each other’s pleasure indicative of the emotion between them. 

The feel of her around him, held against his body was exquisite and he wished to stay this way for eternity. He shifted slightly, raising himself to deepen the thrusts and felt her internal walls tremble as her head fell back and her breathing deepen. He could feel the passion quickening again in both of them but with none of the violent struggle for dominance as before; this was pure and unadulterated, a true meeting of the light that existed in each of them holding their darker selves at bay. There was no space between them now, they were a single entity; they were complete. He could feel her control start to slip, her movements around him become erratic, the heat of her scorching him and then she shattered and he rode out her orgasm as she exclaimed sounds of pure ecstasy over and over and at the moment of his release, where pleasure and pain collided, he could only tell her over and over and over again across space and time that he would love her and had loved her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't stop reading... We are far from done.


	6. Sneller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To every end there is a beginning, and every beginning an end.

The Colt Single action army pistol lay disassembled on the desk before him illuminated by the dying light that filtered in from the wide window behind him. He handled the parts with the loving touch of a connoisseur, cleaning and lubricating the barrel and chambers with exquisite care, lingering over each part. She had been with him a long time and had never let him down, never failed him, had always found her mark and he knew that tonight, in this final action between them she would stay true. It was ironic in a way that the gun was called a peacemaker, as it would bring him finally to his peace. 

His hands, so skilled, so familiar with her parts, like a long accustomed lover seemed to move independent of his brain, which was allowed to wander along the skeins of the last three months and back to that afternoon of ecstasy and agony that been, he now knew, the opening of the last chapter of the book of his life, that would end very soon.

It was ironic in a way that his end would happen here, happen on the very desk where for those long moments he had so fiercely loved the woman who was his very life’s blood and who without he could not face another day. The wood seemed to hold within it the echo of the act itself, wild and animalistic in its conception but transforming into something so pure and tender it had left him shaken to his very core. The feel of her, the scent of her, her passion and sweetness had almost unmanned him and yet had made him more of a man, the man he yearned to be than any other act in his long life.

Their coming together had almost been holy. The unity of body, mind and soul of two people utterly in love, and for what seemed like hours after their passion had been spent he had held her delicate frame to his, utterly at peace. She felt like the missing part of him curved and cleaved to him as she was, skin to skin, their thundering hearts falling into sync, their tortured breathing becoming one inhalation. His love for her was bone deep and he sent an unconscious prayer skywards that if he had to die that it would happen there at that very moment as he would have no regrets.

Finally she had pulled her body away from his, the air cooling the sweat that gleamed on their skins. Still joined in the most intimate of ways she turned her face to his and lifted her mouth to capture his in a kiss of such utter love that he almost recoiled from it as it stripped his soul naked and marked him as hers. 

“I have to go.” Slowly she unwound her legs from his waist where they had captured him and eased away from him and he shuddered slightly as he lost the warmth of the soft sheath of her body. He turned away to right his underwear, pull up his jeans and button the fly. In the time it took him she’d climbed down from the desk, found and put on her t-shirt and jacket and was running her hands through mussed waves of her hair trying to gain order over the unruly curls. He moved towards her but as he lifted his hand to brush a curl behind her ear she pulled suddenly away.

“No. Don’t.”

It was then he suddenly felt the change in her. She had erected barriers against him again and was suddenly as cold as stone, as unyielding as she had ever been. An icy finger of fear blossomed inside him.

“Vanessa, what’s wrong? Vanessa, look at me.” Her eyes which had previously been on the floor raised to his, her look haunted. He moved closer to her but stopped as she raised her hand. He knew he had to handle the situation carefully, she was as skittish as a colt and looked ready to bolt at any moment.

“I know you’re feeling guilty darlin’ but we’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. It isn’t the same as before with your friend. I’m not going to deny what happened and try and hide it. I’m going to tell Gwen everything. Tell her about us and how we’re now together as we should always have been. I will take full responsibility, you will bear none of the blame, none at all.” His voice was soft and low trying to sooth the fear that was palpable within her.

She laughed then, a hollow sound that terrified him.

“I will take none of the blame? How can you say that when the blame is all mine? All of this, every act that played out between us is my responsibility, my fault. I was made to cause pain and now I have put you in mortal danger due to my lack of self-control. I have to go.” She turned away.

“Go. Where? Why?.” He moved quickly to put himself between her and the open door that she’d started to hurry towards, gripping her shoulders in his hands. 

“Vanessa talk to me. I don’t understand. We’ve just made love, for Christ sake. I know I’m finding it hard to understand it all. But you can hardly say it was a rush job, I mean we waited a century, give or take a few years.” His feeble joke seemed to fall on deaf ears as she shook her head and her eyes flashed in anger.

“Did you not listen to anything I said before, about my life and what it has become? I am at war. A war that you cannot understand and that you can never become part of. If Hecate finds you, and she will if I allow myself to stay, she will attack you and you will not be able to stand against her. She is a formidable enemy and utterly ruthless with a power her mother never dreamt of. You will fall before her despite what you are. And if you give into her everything will be lost. I should never have come but I thought your love from Gwen would keep you safe from temptation, from what had been between us. If I had known, even thought, I’d never have come. I was stupid – a stupid little fool. Let me go Ethan.” She tried to turn but he tightened his grip in his desperation, knowing he must be hurting her.

“Vanessa I can help! I can stand with you! I will not leave you again to face any threat, I’m with you, I am yours.”

The smile that passed over her face almost broke his heart in its utter desolation. “You can never be mine Ethan, just as I can never be yours. Every act I have carried out has prevented it, made it impossible. We are just not meant to be together in that way whatever we want or wish for. You will always be my protector, that is pre-ordained but nothing more. The only thing I can do for you now is to walk out of the door and never see you again. Go, be with Gwen, give it a chance, I cannot believe that you feel nothing for her, you are not a man to make any commitment without feeling something. But if not with Gwen with someone. Someone whole, someone who can give you what you deserve. I can offer you nothing but despair and death and I will not gift that to you even for a few moments of utter bliss.” 

He could feel his disbelief and pain turn to anger at her seeming disregard for what had passed between them and what they obviously felt for each other.

“Vanessa I’m not fucking listening to anymore of your reasons or excuses. I am not letting you walk out of here without me and that is final. For once in your god damn life you will listen to someone else and do as you are told.”

As soon as he’d finished he knew that he might as well have driven the final nail into his own coffin. She was no longer Vanessa Ives the woman that now stood before him was the goddess that resided deep inside her and for a moment he felt total fear in her presence, just as Dorian Gray must have in the moments before his demise.

“You have no right, Ethan Chandler, to refuse to let me walk away now or ever when you so callously walked from me in my moment of greatest need. You walked even after I had laid my soul open to you, offered you my life and my heart, my acceptance and my love. You walked knowing you would leave me alone to suffer because you thought it would keep me safe. I do not think my leaving will keep you safe, I know it will and not only you but countless others and it is that knowledge and your act that gives me the right now to leave you. I am leaving you Ethan. I am walking out of that door and you will never see me again. You will never find me however hard you search, wherever you look and despite your powers. Remember your actions and yours alone spawned your pain, a pain you will now live with for the rest of your life just as I have and will.”

He could do nothing, he was powerless before her, her words had kicked him in the guts, floored him and torn out his heart and she stood there seemingly unfeeling.

“Vanessa, please.” He could hear the plea in his voice and despised it, the tears stinging his eyes.

“Go to Gwen, offer her some happiness if you are able.” And then she was gone.

His hand gripped the butt of the pistol, his knuckles white against the dark wood, his remembrances allowing exquisite pain to flood through him pure and sharp as if his blood had been drained and replaced with acid that burned vein deep. It was only through the pain now that he understood that he was still alive, without it he was dead and yet he could live no longer with it.

He had gone to Gwen, admitted everything he could and endured the screaming rage, the outpouring of utter outrage that he could dare to be unfaithful to her, to leave her. The torrent of abuse had continued for weeks. Phone calls to the office, to his flat in the middle of the night, email after email full of vile insults and insinuations of retribution but it stirred nothing in him, he was emotionless under the outpouring of bile. He cared for nothing, he could feel nothing but white agony and for a while he’d relished it, fed off it. But now he knew that there truly was nothing left. Her promise that he would never find him had been no idle threat. He had searched confident that she would not be able to hide from him and now he knew she was alive he would locate her easily. But she had been right. Every avenue had come up blank. She had disappeared almost as if it had been a dream. At first he had struggled to accept it. Hounded his contacts, made a nuisance of himself until he was certain he would lose the good will of every colleague and friend he had as all he could give them was half-truths and diluted facts. But as the weeks turned into months the self–belief had gone, the hope that drove him had failed, he resigned himself to the truth that she had left him utterly and it was then he knew that he could no longer face a life without her. To lose her once was agony but to let her slip through his fingers again meant only one thing, which could only be resolved by a bullet to the brain.

The gun was clean now, in perfect working order and lovingly he reassembled her parts. It seemed strange but building the instrument of his demise allowed him a sense of peace he had not felt since those last moments he’d held her against him, breathed her very essence in and for a moment had felt that he had found his future. With conviction he loaded the chamber with bullets, ever the perfectionist, although he knew that he would only need one to complete the job in hand.

He closed the loading gate and slowly cocked the hammer all the way back. There was no going back now. His decision had been made. He knew he was being a coward but couldn’t find any reason to care. His life had ended the moment she had walked away, taking his heart with her. He knew everything was in order, the explanation letter to Will was on his desk, he would find it in the morning with his final wishes and will attached, he was only sorry he was leaving him with such a bloody mess to clear up, he’d been a good friend and really didn’t deserve what he would face on coming into the office but he knew out of anyone, he would be able to handle it.

He was ready, he sat straight in his chair and brought the muzzle of the gun to his temple. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

But there was only silence and the longed for release didn’t come, the bullet seemed to have frozen in the barrel. And then as he depressed the trigger again he was surrounded by a scent so familiar that he thought for a moment that the deed had been done unconsciously. It was the smell of electricity, the smell of wild, clean storm driven air and then joining it a hand, a hand that cupped his face stroking the opposite temple to where his murder was held.

His eyes flew open and were filled by the sight of the only thing that could dissuade him from his course. Vanessa was there, her hand on his face, her eyes full of tears, her mouth trembling and he could feel her power radiating from her mind holding the bullet, stopping it’s deadly course.

“Put it down love, please put it down now.” Her voice was soft, hypnotic and he followed her instructions, laying it on the table. He pushed his chair back, hardly daring to believe what he saw and made to stand but she moved quicker, sinking down on his lap, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and burying her head into his shoulder where he could feel the tears soaking through his shirt.

“Thank god I got here in time. Ethan I am so sorry, I had no idea it would come to this and I couldn’t let you do it. I couldn’t let you end your life without knowing, without sharing.”

Her face came up level with his and her eyes were burning with a joy the like of which he’d never witnessed. Her face was glowing with happiness and something he could only describe as health, not a word he would ever attribute to her.

“Vanessa.” was all he could manage, his body and mind in shock.

“Ethan you have to live. You have a reason to live. Ethan I’m pregnant. You are going to be a father.”


	7. Nuwe Lewe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa reveals shocking details to Ethan about their unborn child and her reunion with Hecate.

Standing silently at the top of the stairs of the tiny cottage on the windswept moors, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. Curled on top of what had become their bed, laying on her side surrounded and supported by every cushion and pillow the cottage could offer, arms curved protectively, lovingly round her abdomen burgeoning with the precious life their love had created, she slept. Her whole being exuded total peace, never an emotion that prior to this time he would have associated with her. But pregnancy and the prospect of motherhood had altered her. Just as it had filled out and ripened her body curving her edges and filling the hollows of her delicate frame, it had seemed to soften her personality. Her quietness was filled with contentment, her smiles were fuller more natural, she laughed more frequently and her eyes seemed to contain a deep abiding wisdom and fulfilment that touched him soul deep. 

He had always loved her but the emotion he now felt both for her and the child she carried under her heart and deep within her body was beyond anything he’d ever experienced or ever expected to. It almost scared him the depth of feeling and emotional attachment he could feel for an entity he’d never even met but he knew that he would willing give up his life and soul for the daughter that in a possible matter of days now he would be able to cradle in his arms.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

He recalled so vividly the way the beauty curled just in front of him had felt, nestled into his lap minutes after she’d stopped the bullet that would have ended his life. Her arms wrapped round his neck, her voice at his ear telling him the news that he had never expected to hear, that he was going to be a father, the joy tempered by a stab of terror. She had sensed it too, her witch’s insight made more acute by the life growing inside her, the life that now connected them irrevocably together and she had pulled back to lock her eyes with his, her hands coming up to cup his face, her mouth then pressing kisses onto his skin, whispering that it would be alright until his lips had caught hers and kissed her until they were both dizzy for air and laughing like fools.

Though finally it was she who calmed first, the joy in her face fading to be replaced by a look of seriousness.

“Ethan I know my love, I can hardly believe it too but we need to be careful, there are still dangers to be faced and we cannot let our guard down. There are also truths to be told because although this is a beginning I’m not sure how it will playout. I cannot be sure of the future and what it might hold for us.”

“Vanessa, I don’t care about anything at the moment except the fact that you're here and that you're going to have a child, our child. I never thought that was possible, not with this curse...” Then he stopped suddenly a look of horror crossing his face. “But what it I pass it on to the baby? What if the child is infected?” He felt sick to his stomach the idea of bringing another like him into the world, another who would suffer, and through that suffering cause death and destruction to the guilty and innocent alike.

Her voice and hands soothed his fears and she ran her fingers over his face combing through the unkempt beard that he’d let grow unchecked like his hair in the last months.

“She will be perfect, the curse has not been passed. Your kind is made not born you know that, but there is something you should know.” Her voice was measured and careful but he barely noticed in his joy at hearing that their child would be a daughter.

“She? A girl, but how can you be sure? You can’t be more than 3 months?”

Slowly she eased herself off his lap but as he also went to rise pushed him gently but insistently back down into the seat.

“Ethan our daughter will be special, but not in the way you fear or because she is ours, although of course she will be.” Her face curved into a smile so full of pride it was a wonder and unconsciously it seemed, she laid her hands on her belly that as yet showed no sign of the life growing within it. She moved then to stand, her back against the window, her face shadowed in the light cast by the street lamps that glowed through the large expanse of glass.

“While we made love I suffered such guilt. You were engaged, about to be married and yet my passion was mindless and even though I knew it was wrong I still allowed it. I couldn’t help it, a century of want and need overcame me and I was helpless to resist it or you. But even though I had never been happier or more content it resurrected memories that I had worked so hard to quash. Memories of the eve of Mina’s wedding night crashed down upon me. The betrayal, the agony I put her and every other person I had ever purported to care about through and yet still I did it with barely a thought. I was unable then to quell the cruelty and jealously inside of me, to hold it in check and although I swore it would never happen again I found myself a slave to it, again laid out on a table under a man that was not mine. In those moments I hated you for having the power to tempt me into an act of betrayal but more than that I hated myself for giving in so easily at not being able to control my emotions.”

“And that's why you left and why you kept yourself hidden from me darlin’?”

“Partly, but there was more. Being with you in that way, here, awakened something in me that I didn’t want to face, the fact…” and for a moment her voice faltered and again her hands grazed over her stomach, “.. that I didn’t want to be without you. That I wanted you and I to have at least a chance of happiness together. But I couldn’t risk it. Not with Lucifer still hunting me, still trying to capture my soul and Hecate still desperate to punish me for abandoning her. So I went back.”

“To Hecate, as her lover?” He knew his voice was harsh but he couldn’t help it. He felt like the breath had been ripped out of his lungs and jealously almost overwhelmed him. The idea that another person had been with her, had caressed her naked flesh and kissed her lips. Had watched and felt her shudder under their touch caused the beast inside him to rear and howl in anguish. 

She moved then to kneel at his feet, her hands grasping for his which were stiff and unresponsive, her eyes were full of an emotion he could only recognise as desperation and her words confirmed it. “Ethan I had no choice. I was desperate. I needed to trap the Dark One to keep me and ultimately mankind safe and the only way was to create a crystal made with the blood of an immortal. Hecate was the best candidate, the only candidate, but I needed to get close to her to steal her immortality. Yes my love, I did return to her bed but there was no other way. I needed her to trust me, to believe that I wanted total reconciliation. You know we were lovers before, I had to play that part again to give us a chance.”

“And so it’s over?”

“Hecate and me. Oh yes, she will never trust me again. She will come after me in retribution for what I stole but we have time, time enough to find a way of keeping us and the child safe. I stripped her of her immortality and in doing so have weakened her to such an extent that she is harmless but that will not last forever. Her powers linked to the blood magic she wields will come back over time.”

“And the devil?”

“The crystal is forged and ready but he is wary. I have reached out to him but maybe in my eagerness he has sensed danger and has become elusive. He will not be able to resist forever but I hope now that he will stay hidden until after the birth.” She gripped his hands tighter, her fingers moving over his, rubbing her affection and care over his skin. He could see the openness in her, the want to purge herself. He knew there was still more and braced himself for the coming onslaught.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

As quietly as he could so not to wake her, he moved closer to the bed where Vanessa lay in the deepest of sleeps he’d witnessed for weeks and sat down on the thin rug beside it, resting his head so that his forehead almost touched her abdomen. He watched with wonder as he saw the life under the tight layer of skin ripple as it always did when he came close. The child always reacted to his presence, something Vanessa had always commented on, maybe with a hint of jealousy at the bond that had formed. Gently he pressed his lips to the rounded swell, shushing the child to lie still and let its mother sleep. He too felt amazement that he could love her so deeply considering his initial reaction when Vanessa had finally revealed the last and most unbelievable of her confessions.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“Vanessa I can see there's more you need to say, so just say it please. Let me hear everything now.” He leant forward then, placing his hand against her cheek, feeling the flush that stained her cheeks. “Just tell me.” And he pulled her back onto his lap where she curled against him and for that moment he could believe that everything was going to be alright.

Her voice was low and he had to strain to hear her, “Ethan, our daughter is Mina.”

Confusion washed over him. Why was she so concerned at naming the child after her dearest friend and why would she worry that it might upset him? 

“Darlin’ I like the name and don’t mind at all that you’ve named her that. I totally understand that you’d want to honour your friend so why so nervous? Did you think I’d object? Want to name her myself?”

She looked up then, her eyes unfathomable but her forehead was creased. “Ethan you don’t understand. She is called Mina because, oh God how can I explain? She is Mina. The child that I carry, our daughter is also the reincarnation of Mina Murray, my best friend. The act that brought her into existence due, I think in part of my guilt at what we did, I believe called over space and time and brought the soul of Mina back into this world. I remember just for a split second during our lovemaking that Mina’s image formed in my head so clearly, almost like she was waiting to be called, expected it somehow. Ethan she is ours, yours and mine but she is also more.”

For the second time that evening her utterances tore away at the very fabric of his belief system, leaving him stunned and the wonder at hearing of her pregnancy turned to something unwelcome. He could hardly believe it, the initial joy turning to something akin to anger; anger at her, at the events, that yet again despite everything, that their lives could not be simple, uncomplicated. That even in the midst of something so normal as having a child, there had to for them, be an aspect of the macabre. He watched her face fall, her body stiffen away and almost turn in on itself, her arms coming round to wrap around her stomach in an almost protective gesture. Protecting the child against him and his reaction.

“I know, I know how you must feel Ethan..”

But he could not let her speak again, the anger and what he could only describe as grief bubbling over. He grabbed her by her shoulders, turning her almost roughly to face him.

“You have no fucking idea of how I feel Vanessa. How could you? You tell me that I’m going to be a father and then fuck me, dump this one on me that your God damn guilt has caused the soul of your friend to lodge inside of you! Your friend who died a mother fucking vampire ready to tear your throat out and anyone else that stood in her way. Your friend who was willing to turn you over to her vampire master. For Christ sake Vanessa you tell me that my curse hasn’t been transferred but how the fuck can you know that the child you're carrying isn’t the same one that wanted to hand you over to God only knows what evil? I'm your protector. Are you telling me that I may have to protect you from our own child? Is she even our child?!” His voice had raised to a shout and he saw her face blanch under the onslaught of his rage but he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t allow anything to put her in danger.

He felt her hands go up to grip his, still clutched on her shoulders and thought that she was trying to get away from him, off his lap. But she stayed deep against him and brought his hands to rest on her abdomen lifting her shirt so his calloused palms lay directly on the silk of her skin and pressed them hard into her flesh.

Her eyes flashed, the look of a mother predator protecting its young and he felt her deep abiding love for the child but as part of that her love for him. And then almost as if a transference took place he was able through her and the touch of her skin on his to see deep into the soul of the child and to gaze in wonder and awe at the purity and innocence that abided there and in that moment he recognised utter love. A love that would transcend all others, the love of a father for his daughter, and her love for him.

“Ethan, that Mina you saw in the theatre that night was not the Mina I knew and loved. That woman was nothing more than an empty shell, soulless and filled with the power of an evil master. My Mina was innocent. Her soul was pure and full of love and was ripped from her in the most horrific way possible, her body polluted by darkness so it could never come back. And she wanted to come back, she was always looking for a way to live out the life she so deserved and now she can. She will live untainted and unsullied in the body of one created from pure love. Our daughter.”

It was only when her hands moved from his to brush against his cheeks did he realise that he was crying, and as the tears continued to fall she brought her mouth to his, merging the tears that were falling from her eyes with his.

They had travelled to the moors that very night, Ethan leaving only a note for Will explaining that he was taking a lengthy sabbatical and that he was sorry, but he would not be contactable.

Their life had fallen into an easy and gentle routine, re-familiarising themselves with the other, learning about each other carefully, as old-new lovers do. They walked on the moors, cleaned the cottage, readied it for the coming arrival, cooked and found, until it became uncomfortable for Vanessa, joy and solace in making love. He loved to lay with her in the afternoon in the later stages of her pregnancy when she was tired, facing each other, fingers entwined (hers now bare of rings which he had early on in their time together, during a particularly passionate encounter, sucked one by one from her fingers) talking quietly of future plans. What they wanted for themselves and their daughter, how they planned to live their lives and he ignored the shadows that resided deep in her eyes, choosing only to hope.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A rhythmic stroking of his hair brought him back to the present and he realised that Vanessa was awake and that he had been asleep. He sat up to gaze into her eyes and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth which opened under his, her arms wrapping tightly round his neck, pulling him hard against the warmth of her body.

“Although I love being pregnant I cannot wait to resume normal service regarding our sex life.” She muttered huskily against his lips causing him to laugh at her wantonness.

And then suddenly she stiffened and as he looked up he saw an intensity in her eyes that he had not seen for an age but knew in that second that his life was about to change forever.

“Ethan, I think we are about to meet our daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the honour of posting this one. I hope you all enjoy it as I think for me this was my favourite chapter so far to write - not sure why but I hope it comes through. A massive thank you to all of you who keep reading and giving comments and kudos. We both love getting them and it keeps us striving to make it better and better so keep them coming if you would! We love feeling the love.  
> The Team  
> Scorpionmother - writing/editing  
> OerbaIzalith - story/editing/directional awesomeness ;)


	8. Was, Is, Sal Wees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa gives birth and discovers the Demimonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back at long last! This chapter was highly personal to me and scorpionmother because it ties it in with the origin material and features prominent characters from the series, as well as giving a glimpse into the future. To accommodate this, we have shifted the focus away from Ethan this time. We hope you enjoy.

Dawn broke grey over the moors and yet its light brought no relief to the woman sprawled before him. Her face was ashen, bleached of colour, her hair a mess of black, sweat soaked strings. He could hardly bear to look at her, her form so reminiscent of the images he still held of the last time he’d seen her like this, so broken, suffering so totally, fighting for her very soul, which festered in his tortured mind. The pain of labour had been ripping through her body now for endless hours. Great scythes of agony that left her exhausted, unable to speak, her breathing shallow her eyes mirroring the torment of her body, the blue faded to a frightening dullness. And yet she, who had the knowledge to ease the suffering refused to do anything. She seemed to welcome each contraction, pulling it into herself with a twisted relishment of the abject discomfort each one brought. He could do nothing but watch and pray for it to be over; for the delivery of their daughter and of her from the pain.

He’d never felt so useless, so alone and so afraid. His role as her protector seemed to be some kind of sick joke and with it came the clear, cold certainty that must touch the mind of every man who watches the woman he loves as she writhes and struggles to bring new life into the world: that he was the cause of this agony. That in that moment of singular pleasure of his release, that ultimately he’d composed for her a symphony of pain. That knowledge burned deep within him as he watched another contraction wrack through her, draining yet more of her dwindling strength. But quickly he realized that there was a difference and for a minute he dared hope that the moment was close, that the baby was coming. Her eyes blazed sapphire and she pulled herself up. He raced to the bed placing himself behind her, to support her tortured body, to try in some way to imbrue some of his strength into her. Then, without warning the most terrible scream tore from her livid lips, one that sent his blood cold, her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp.

“Vanessa!”

\---

 

It was like being born through light and into light. The pain of her labour was still there but in the background like white noise and yet in some way she was free of it, wrapped in a silken shroud of pure luster. She could hear the panic of Ethan’s scream echoing over time and space and yet she felt nothing, no sense of loss or conscience at his grief. In this space between worlds there were no emotions, no love or hate just a sense of rightness and something else. It flowed like a channel around and through her, caressing her, supporting her, suspending her, offering a challenge and a release and it was then she understood what it was, where she was. 

Her mind flickered back to a conversation of a century before. She sat at a table swathed in black, her body tightly bound by convention and the clinch of a corset. Before her stood the man who somewhere in another time was weeping over her limp, seemingly lifeless body. His soul a mass of contraction and pain. A cursed man with such sins at his back that it would kill him to turn around. A man so much more than what he portrayed. A man of complication hiding behind the façade of a brutish killer. She’d seen the power in him, what he’d been, what he was and what he was destined to be and her heart bled for him although she did not truly understand the magnitude of his curse and what it meant.

“Do you believe there is a demimonde, Mr. Chandler? A half world between what we know and what we fear? A place in the shadows, rarely seen, but deeply felt. Do you believe that?” Her voice was low, conspiratorial trying to sooth him and yet knowing that this was a conversation only meant to inspire fear even in one such as him.

The demimonde - where she resided now and that certainty, that clarity of thought took it from a vision seen like a memory that hovers on the edge of consciousness in a single terrible second - a reality.

The light faded and she found she was standing in a large room with high vaulted ceilings. The type of room you would find in a mansion and yet simple and unadorned. The walls were pale, the colour indistinct in the glow of hundreds of candles that covered every surface including the floor and the roaring fire that burnt in the large marble fireplace to her left. She glided towards it, her hands outstretched but however close she got the temperature did not change from the ambient warmth. But nothing about this surprised her. The power in the room was immense. Deeper and stronger than any she’d every felt. It pulsated in every fibre of her body and soul and exuded its own existence that of a living, sentient being. Never in her life had she felt anything so enormously powerful but there was something about it in one instance so alien and then in another so familiar. It also was the most neutral force she’d ever felt, neither good or evil, the perfect correlation between the two and it was this that she found so immensely terrifying.

A faint noise from the back of the room caught her attention and she turned to see a large throne against the back wall, something she’d unbelievably failed to notice before. But despite the grandeur and sheer size it was not that that drew her towards it. Sitting back straight but head bent in what could only be described as supplication sat a woman. She was tall although seated, her skin, what of it that could be seen, bone white against the midnight blackness of her hair that veiled her face in heavy waves. As she grew closer she realised that it was from this woman the power emanated. She was clothed in velvet the colour of blood, a form fitted robe that draped a thin but heavy breasted figure. Her hands as still as water rested on the arms. At the back of her mind a voice started screaming in warning but she paid no heed, guided inexorably towards that ultimate source of power. She was only steps away, her hand raised to sweep back the curtain of hair when the head snapped up and her eyes were met with those most familiar orbs of sapphire blazing with a rage so acute she felt as if her very soul was flayed. The lips stretched back into a humorless grin and her own voice screamed into her mind.

“Keer terug, dit is nog nie tyd nie. Keer dadelik terug.”

\---

It was if a bolt of electricity had pulsed through her body, her limp form shocked into life, oxygen sawing into her lungs. He’d thought her dead, her body had been so still, her pulse non-existent, her breathing stilled, the heat flooding out of her to leave her cold. He himself in those moments had been frozen, the grief of losing her and the child coalescing into a pain so absolute, that it had left him incapable of thought or movement. The despair tore through him and he lifted his face to the heavens and howled. But now in his arms she moved, she breathed and he could feel a power radiating through her. The power of a woman intent on saving the child her body had nurtured and to bear it safely into the world. Her hands clawed against the sheets scrabbling for purchase. The swollen orb of her stomach on which he rested his hands seemed alive, rippling as yet more contractions rioted through her form. Her breathing had settled into panting and he mirrored it with his own feeling, her body bearing down, trying desperately to expel the beloved life inside her to live for real.

“Come on love push, push, you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.” His words turned into a litany as much for him as her. Her face and body apart from the dome of her abdomen was a mass of angles and jutting tendons, her face a mask of pain. He looked down to see between her splayed legs just the hint of the crown of a tiny, delicate head.

“Vanessa I can see her, keep going, you can do this darlin'.”

She tore a breath in and he braced himself for her scream but she seemed to absorb it into her, herself bearing down and suddenly he saw the back of his daughter’s head through the ruddy birth fluids covered with pale downy hair.

“One more darlin’ then it’s over she is almost here. Just one more, just one more then you can rest.”

He felt her body tense and her stomach muscles pushed again and this time a piercing cry of which later he could only describe as pure joy rip through her as her body birthed their daughter into his hands.

He turned her over to look into her perfect face distorted into a cry as she took her first breath and in that moment knew what it was to truly love another. With utter tenderness he lifted her delicate body, still attached to her mother through the life giving cord, and laid her almost reverently onto Vanessa’s breast, his arms coming round to wrap them both in the physical manifestation of his love, watching her settle and calm against his lover’s skin. He could barely believe what he saw and what he held in his arms. The baby was perfect, her skin although still marred with blood and vernix was translucent and pale. He ran a gentle finger across the top of her skull, feeling the pulse at the crown of her head and marveled that one such as him, so large, so male could be even partly responsible for creating something so perfect and female. 

“Mina.” He whispered and it that moment, almost as if she heard him she opened her eyes and he looked into a blue as deep as the night sky over the moor.

\---

She was back in the light, the pain like a distant memory but still very much with her. But the light this time was different, more intense and yet filtered through her eyes which she knew were closed. She was back in the demimonde although there was a difference. It took a moment to assimilate. The power was there but it was no longer the force it had been. It was different, still deep and strong but less complete like it had been fractured. But although she could feel the breaks, she could also feel the intensity of the power so much more than it had ever been before and there was another change. In her previous encounter the power had been completely neutral emanating only a grey aura. But that aura, like the power had fractured. The grey was still there but cradled and reduced by one of pure light and pure darkness. The three existed in perfect balance but one that felt untried and untested – youthful in its ambience.

As before the light faded, leaving her standing in a lavender-filled clearing surrounded by a dense forest. The sweet aroma of the lavender surrounded her, filling her senses, carried by a warm summer breeze. In front of her stood a white gazebo, circular mosaic windows lining the top of it and in the distance she could hear the sound of young women’s laughter. She drifted towards the gazebo, noting how her feet barely seemed to touch the earth. As she got closer she noticed a table bathed in the coloured light that flooded through the ceiling. The surface was covered with plates as yet empty but seemingly waiting for food. And at the end of a table dressed entirely in white, his feet bare, hand clutching a steaming mug and eyes intent on a paper sat Ethan. Yet is was not her Ethan although he resided in that familiar form. This was another man entirely, a being of another future, one that for a fleeting moment she realised did not include her, although it was gone and unremembered almost before she’d thought it. He belonged to another, another of a power and darkness that challenged her own. But he was happy. The contentment radiated from him and she rejoiced in it and what it meant. 

Suddenly a pair of thin arms encircled his neck from behind and a face appeared over his shoulder framed by an aura of thick, curly blonde hair.

“Morning Daddy.” Her voice was warm with just a hint of an accent that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but the face was achingly familiar.

“Morning sweetheart, sleep well?”

The love that radiated in his voice and the way that his eyes glowed at her appearance and touch brought such a flood of emotion that for a moment she felt unable to breath.

She watched as the even more beautiful reincarnation of her dearest friend brushed a kiss onto the brow of her father and walked round him to take a seat on his right.

“Like a rock, I snoozed in a bit too. Glad I didn't miss breakfast.” As she spoke the plates were filled with food and she reached forward to snag a piece of vanilla coffee bread from a plate.

“Oh I thought you were lazing the day away unlike the others. I’m not sure what they’re doing in there but it sounds like they’re having fun. Well Amy is, at least.” 

They both smiled and Vanessa was struck by the similarity between them as a high pitched, child-like almost hysterical burst of laugher rang about from amongst the trees behind them. Moments later a tiny red head burst out from forest, her hair streaming out behind her like a ribbon of blood, her bright green eyes shining with unsuppressed mirth.

“Catch me if you can!” She crowed throwing the comment behind her at the taller girl of Japanese origin who followed behind in close pursuit.

Alice – the name came to Vanessa unheeded and in the three girls she saw the origin of the power she felt. The trinity that they formed balanced but still barely tested and she could have wept for them although she knew not why.

“You little shit. Just wait till I catch you. And when I do I’m gonna kick your ass sister.” Although the words were brusque Vanessa could hear the deep affection emanating from them and Amy seemed to suffer no issues, her squeals indicating enjoyment and delight rather than any real fear. 

“You’re too slow and too clumsy to every catch me and I ain’t your sister.” She yelled as she skirted past the table and then stopped suddenly, her attention taken by what had just appeared in the line of her sight. “Ohh bacon! I’m starvin'!” She sat down, her whole focus now on the food and started helping herself. 

Vanessa studied the girl in front of her, not fooled by her childlike manner or appearance. In this little one she saw the darkest of powers. Powers that resonated back through time and would spell the end of this life. Powers that she was barely able to contain and again she felt an overwhelming sense of grief for what she’d suffered and what she would suffer in her future.

The other girl finally arrived at the table slamming her hand down next to the plate that Amy was eating off of.

“What the hell Amy? That was so fucking out of line.”

The younger girl looked up her mouth full of food a look of innocence in her emerald eyes.

“What?” then she giggled slightly as the older girl brought her face closer, a scowl causing her eyebrows to draw almost together under her heavy straight bangs.

“You know the hell what!” the menace in Alice’s voice was almost tangible but the little red head looked unconcerned, continuing to devour the plate of bacon she’d pull in front of her.

“Sit down Alice, have some coffee.” Ethan’s voice rang with barely suppressed mirth and his look was full of affection as he looked between the two.

“I don’t want any coffee thanks. What I want is an apology from this little monster.”

Amy giggled again stuffing her fingers into her mouth to try and stifle the sound.

“Alice calm down. What has she done that's so terrible?” Mina had got up and walked round the table to tug the still scowling Alice with her to sit down close to Ethan who put his paper down to look at the three young women with a slight look of bemusement which Vanessa found intensely amusing. The relationship with Mina was obvious but these others, they were a mystery to her and Ethan clearly was feeling out of his depth and probably not for the first time.

“I offered to help her learn to defend herself better physically , y’know so she wasn’t so dependent on her powers. So anyway we started sparring and little red here,” and she shot a look at Amy who responded by sticking out her tongue, “decides that despite agreeing not to use her powers that she’d hurl me into a tree with her damn mind because I was beating her.”

Vanessa saw both Ethan and Mina grin at the same time and then quickly hide it as Alice’s head whipped round to look at them.

“Well I'm sure she didn't throw you that hard, besides you've been through a whole lot worse. You didn't mean to hurt her, right Amy?” Mina turned to the younger girl, her face as solemn as her voice but her eyes shining with laughter.

“No...” Amy batted her eyelashes with a feined innocence and bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from giggling.

At this, Alice stood her hand slamming for a second time on the table causing the plates to rattle and a jug of milk to slosh over to stain the linen table cloth.

“Girls, enough.” Ethan’ voice rang loud in the still air and the three young women turned to look at him. “Settle down, Alice. Christ, you'd swear she threw a Necro ball at you.” He turned to Amy then. "And you, young lady, try saving some for the bad guys, will ya?"

"Right Pops!" Amy flashed a big pearly white grin at him while Alice sighed and sat down at the table.

Suddenly the air stilled and Vanessa was aware that the scene had frozen except for one person, the one person with who the connection over time and space still existed.

The golden head of her daughter swung round the eyes the same brown of her father latched onto hers. The smile that passed over her face was one of total joy and utter sorrow.

“Moeder.”

\---

He’d washed and bathed both of them after cutting the life giving cord that bound them together, his lover and his daughter. They lay now in the cleanly made bed, the baby latched onto her breast feeding peacefully and the look of love in Vanessa’s eyes as she looked down at the tiny scrap of life they’d created almost floored him. Never in his long life had he seen anything more beautiful or so frightening as the two of them there. Beautiful because they were his and his alone and frightening because of the utter power they held over him.

She looked up then, the love in her eyes for their daughter including him and her other hand reached out to him. He walked towards the bed, quickly slipping his clothes off and carefully eased himself behind her, wrapping his arms around both of them.

He could feel tears joy and relief pricking his eyelids as he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and ran his finger gently over his daughter’s silken cheek.”

“Thank you. Thank you my darling.” He whispered into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theda: we hope you were as happy seeing the girls again as we were.


	9. Vrees die Toekoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Vanessa adjust to being new parents. Vanessa suggests that they find a safe place to settle down with baby Mina.

He knew that Vanessa would be pissed off with him if he woke the baby, having probably only just got her off to sleep but he was helpless to resist the lure of his perfect daughter. He’d just returned from a two hour round trip to the nearest town to stock up on essential supplies they were running low on. 

Even when she was screaming like a banshee in the darkest hours of the night he never felt anything for her but utter love and the need to cater to her every need and whim. He revelled in holding her tiny body close to his, inhaling the pure essence of her, feeling her heartbeat against his skin. Feeling her tense body relax as he held her close, hearing her sharp cries fade to whimpers and eventually to cooing, her eyes, the twins of his own, regarding him with a wisdom far beyond her years. This delicate bundle of life held his heart firmly in her tiny grip – loving her was the purest emotion that he’d ever felt.

He was also smugly proud of the fact that often he was the best at settling her when she was fussy and irritable. He tried hard to keep this hidden from Vanessa but the knowing look in her sapphire eyes and the pursing of her mouth spoke volumes, although she never articulated what was in her head past a slightly irritated tutting. 

The last three months had been for him the happiest of his long life. He was experiencing a sense of utter peace that he’d never thought he’d ever feel and he wore his contentment like a second skin, totally enraptured by the twin female entities that dominated every second of his existence. He was like the moon to their sun and he orbited them, drawn to them by a force of love stronger than a gravitational pull.

He approached the pram that Vanessa had left just outside in the garden of the cottage. He could hear her moving about in the kitchen, probably dealing with the myriad of dirty nappies that Mina produced every day. That was something that still totally astounded him, that something so tiny could produce so much mess but it never seemed to bother Vanessa, who cleaned and laundered the seeming hundreds of towelling squares, refusing to buy the ‘new-fangled’ disposable ones that he’d suggested. As soon as he leaned over the pram her eye-lids fluttered and her eyes opened to gaze into his soul. Just as when she’d been carried under her mother’s heart, she responded to his presence instantly, her mouth curving into a smile showing her pink gums and her pudgy arms and legs waving in seeming rapture at the sight of him.

“Sush sweetheart you’ll get Daddy into trouble with Mommy if she knows I’ve woken you.”

He lowered his hand down to stroke her delicate cheek with his little finger and she gurgled in delight gripping the digit with a strength he always marvelled at. She seemed in no rush to go back to sleep and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to play with her although he knew that if Vanessa caught him he’d been in for one of her lectures about what happened when he overstimulated the baby.

“Wanna play peekaboo?”

Quickly he dipped down so that he was hidden from her sight and then popped up the other side, causing her to emit a high pitched squeal which turned into a giggle. Over and over again he dipped down to appear on different sides of the pram, sometimes accompanying his appearance with a tickle or gentle prod on her rounded tummy and each time making her giggle and squeal, her arms and legs kicking with the intense pleasure of the magic her father seemed to be performing.

He couldn’t help laughing with her, the simple pleasure of the game, hearing the peals of laughter emanating out of his daughter filled his heart with such a burst of joy that for a moment he thought that his heart would spiral out of his chest.

He scooped her wriggling form into his arms holding her against his chest still gurgling and giggling.

“I found you!” he whispered into her ear brushing a gentle kiss against her downy blonde hair that had just started to curl and breathing in her unique, sweet milky scent.

“Ethan, for the love of God can’t you leave her alone for five minutes?” 

He looked up to see the other woman in his life framed in the doorway and although the exasperation in her voice was real enough, she was smiling. 

He approached her, trying to look sheepish and held out his other arm, gathering her against him, holding both of them in the loving circle of his arms. 

“Sorry darlin’, but I just can’t resist her. Just like I can’t resist you.” He pulled her more firmly against him feeling her body become pliant against his hardness and ran a line of kisses down her neck grazing the roughness of his beard against the soft skin of her neck and throat and hearing her breath hitch.

“So how about it darlin’. Mina needs a sleep and I’m pretty sure we could find some way of passing the time.” He ran his hand down her side over her narrow waist and hip, giving her arse a firm squeeze causing a giggle reminiscent of the ones his daughter had given, although of deeper timbre.

She looked up at him, her eyes glowing and her lips curving into a wide smile that had, in the last months become almost common place and he could not resist dipping his head to steal a kiss. She extracted herself from his arms although he sensed reluctance and reached to take the baby off him, looking down in satisfaction at her drooping eyes and contented look.

“Umm. Definitely later Mr. Chandler but for now I need to talk to you.”

“We could talk in bed. After.” 

He made a playful lunge for her but gracefully she side stepped him, returning back to the pram to place their now peacefully sleeping daughter down, covering her with a thin blanket.

With delicate fingers she ran her fingers across the sleeping infant’s cheek and then turned to look at him and although she smiled her tone was serious.

“Ethan we need to talk. We need to talk about Hecate.”

That name coming from her lips twisted his heart. The force of evil that was an ever present shadow over their happiness.

“Let’s do this inside. I can’t bear to have that bitch even spoken about near Mina.” As he walked inside a shiver ran up his back. Hecate, the witches’ daughter, former acolyte of the very devil that yearned to possess Vanessa and in doing so bringing about the end of the world. He longed to have her in front of him, his hands at her throat, watching the very life being squeezed out of her so she could no longer pose a threat to those he loved.

Vanessa followed him inside and pulled him down on the wooden settle beside the unlit fire, leaving the door open to listen for the baby. 

“For a while now I’ve felt her power growing, coming back to her. She is still not at full strength but it will not be long. She senses where we are but is not yet ready to confront us and neither does she have the support required, but it is imminent. We are no longer safe here. We need to put ocean and earth between us for our safety but most importantly for Mina’s.” Her voice was low and there was a strain in it that he’d not heard for many months and the sound of it grieved him deeply.

“That’s not everything. You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

She shook her head and he could see the doubt and confusion in her eyes.

“I’m not hiding things on purpose from you. There are feelings I have that I fear if I articulate it will bring them to pass. They are whispers, scratchings only but to name them might give them life. Please my love I need you to trust me, I need you to accept that in this you must allow me the lead. I must be the protector.” Her eyes burned with a passion that reminded him of the night in Grandage Place when she’d stood before him, admonishing him for his lack of faith, before she’d walked into the witches’ castle alone to face her demon.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips a deep sigh escaping him. He knew she was right and although the thought of not being in control rankled with him, he knew better than to challenge her on matters of faith.

“What do we need to do?”

“We need to leave here as I said, travel abroad to somewhere she would not expect, but that on its own will only hinder her, not stop her from tracing us. I knew we needed some kind of spell to shield us from her sight but I had no knowledge of how to cast one powerful enough until yesterday.”

From underneath the settle she reached down to extract a shallow, lidded wooden box he’d never seem before and opening it showed him a sheaf of papers yellowed with age and covered with cramped writing faded and browned by time. She explained that whilst cleaning she’d knocked his watch down the back of the dresser and on moving it she’d come across the box.

“It’s from Joan, I recognise her writing. At first I thought it was just a load of old papers, recipes for potions but when I looked further I realised it was more and then I found this.” She held aloft a piece of parchment older than the rest, heavily crossed through with corrections and additions. He looked more closely but the cramped script was beyond him. “It’s a protection spell and a powerful one at that but it requires a sacrifice from both of us.”

“What kinda sacrifice are we talking here darlin’? I’ll do anything to protect the two of you but I need to know what I’m letting myself in for and more importantly what it means for you. You’re still not fully recovered from the birth.”

“Says the man trying to seduce me into bed in the middle of the afternoon.” She smiled widely at his frown but then her tone again became business like. “It is actually surprisingly simple, only a few ingredients are needed but there are two which are vital. Blood and hair. The thing about the hair though is it requires a lot, an entire head of hair.”

He narrowed his eyes, for a second wondering if this was another ruse to get him to cut his hair which, since coming to the moor had become increasingly overgrown and which she had frequently complained about, naming him ‘the wild man of Ballentree Moor’, but he recognised that this was not the time for jokes or for her making them.

He sighed. 

“Well I can’t be having a bald lady on my arm. Even in these modern times folks will talk. I surrender my hair and anything else you need. But Vanessa, I wasn't joking. You lost so much blood after Mina’s birth. How much blood are we talking here and does it have to be yours? Can't it be mine too?”

She raised her hand to his face in that familiar gesture that had in his mind become synonymous of their relationship, running her thumb over his jaw.

“It has to be mine, my love. Your power is great but this spell requires... a sacrifice from each and my blood will make it hold better. Remember for 9 months Mina and I shared that part of us. It has to be mine. Yes it will be a lot but not too much and I will recover quickly knowing that she is safe, that we are safe.”

Deep down in the back of his mind he sensed doubt in what she was saying. How could such a simple thing, so unexpectedly found be the answer to their problems and yet she looked so certain, so hopeful he was loathed to quash it. Hope blossomed so rarely in her and he did not want to be the one to destroy it. He vowed silently to every god he could that he would protect his women even if it required the death of any other, including his own.

“Okay, so we perform the spell. Then what. Where should we go? You said we needed to put earth and water between us and her but where will be far enough? We could go back to America? It should be safe now, after all this time.”

She shook her head and even before she formed the words he knew what she would say, that it was too obvious that the witches' daughter would expect them to run to his old country, to somewhere familiar.

“No, we need to go somewhere new. Somewhere that is potentially dangerous for one such as me. Somewhere she will dismiss as impossible for me to survive there. We need to go where there are witches, where the root of the magic that I yield had its birth. We need to go to Africa. I’ve read of a town in South Africa called Bloemfontein. Covens there are abundant and powerful. Hiding amongst those who could, if they knew who I was, seek to do me harm, would not occur to her. She is too much of a coward to weaken herself that much and she would think the same of me, proving how little she actually knows me. There we will be safe because there I cannot use magic, whatever the temptation, and by not using it will shield us further.”

“But could they not pick up on what you are, just from your presence? Christ sweetheart I can feel it in you all the time, that you’re not…normal.” 

Her laughter rang out, causing her eyes to fill with tears of amusement.

“Who wants to be normal, my love? And that is rich coming from one such as you! You can feel it because you know what I am, as does the one inside you who is here to protect me. This spell will hide my power from any of my kind. They may feel a sense of unease around me, or even familiarity but nothing that they will be able to focus on.”

She stood then, walking to the door to gaze out at the pram that stood in the sunshine and at the sleeping figure in it.

“We have to do this Ethan. We must protect her at all costs. I owe it to the woman she was and also to the woman she is to become. She is my chance at redemption and I cannot, I will not fail her.”

He moved them to stand behind her, winding his arms around her and pulling her against him, trying in that touch to reassure her. He could feel the resolve burning through her like a firebrand and he was helpless against her despite the fear that struggled under the surface.

“I will go wherever you want and do anything you think is right. I have sworn to protect you and her, and I will abide by that. As I told you that night when you first asked me to join you, I’m with you and will be until the end of days.” 

Then he spun her round to face him, picking her up from the ground and spinning her round and round.

“Get the clippers darlin’ were off to South Africa!” as the wakening cries of his daughter filled the air around him mixed with those of Vanessa’s laughter.


	10. Iets Boos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settled and apparently safe, Ethan and Vanessa continue their lives as parents, oblivious to the tragedy that is about to strike and change their lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get real dark...

He knew she was trying not to wake him but he was now too attuned to her, so used to her slight weight on the mattress beside him that even in that greyness between waking and sleeping he recognised her attempts to get up. As quick as a rattle snake, his arm caught her before she could climb totally off the bed, wrapping round her waist and pulling her back into the warmth of his naked body.

“Oh no you don’t lil' lady, you ain’t going anywhere for a while.” He growled sleepily into her neck, his mouth and teeth teasing the delicate skin there which he knew made her squirm with desire.

“And what exactly sir do you have in mind?” Her voice was stern but as she turned to face him, her eyes always so clear despite having just woken, sparkled with amusement and her hands moved to his flanks to lightly scrape her nails over his skin, causing his already aroused shaft to twitch with response against the softness of her belly that she pressed against him. 

He flipped her over onto her back, loving the sound of her surprised but joyful gasp, holding his bulk off her delicate frame and planting kisses on her face, down her neck and over her collar bone between his words.

“Well… darlin’ … I’m … sure … I … can… think… of … just … a … few … things… you … may … enjoy.”

She reached up to grasp his head, lightly running the pads of her fingers over the velvet nape of his shorn scalp purring,

“Well if you can’t I sure the hell can.” And she pulled him down to her eager lips.

\---

Later as held her sated body against his, knowing that they probably only had minutes left before their daughter would insist on one or both of their presences at her cot side, he mulled over the changes that had occurred since leaving the cottage on the moor. Within less than a week of casting the cloaking spell that had meant the shearing of his chestnut hair to the very skin of his scalp and a frightening amount of blood from Vanessa, they had packed their meagre belongings and taken the first flight to Johannesburg from Heathrow and then the connecting internal flights to Bloemfontein. It had been around 17 hours of misery for their little family and probably every other passenger on each of the flights including the 3 hours they had to wait at Johannesburg for their connection. Mina had cried and screamed for practically the entire journey, refusing to settle even when held in her father’s arms and the closer to their destination the more inconsolable she’d appeared to come. Both he and Vanessa had been exhausted, their tempers ragged by the time they had finally landed at Bloemfontein. However things had quickly improved and within a couple of days they easily found a little house on a quiet street in the Fauna district to rent which even had a small swimming pool. 

Vanessa, it seemed had settled happily into the role of a new mother, and as the months passed had even made a couple of friends amongst the women of the neighbourhood although she was careful to provide only the most sketchy of details about her family. Having easily detected the places where covens held power, she had sensed no threat and had begun to relax into a settled routine. Although money was not an issue he had also, to seem less conspicuous, secured some labouring work and too had made friends with a few of the men who he worked with. He even on occasion went out after work to share a couple of beers but never stayed long, good naturedly enduring their ribbing about being pussy whipped.

He however hated every minute he was away from home, especially from Mina who had become it seemed his whole reason for existing. On entering the house she was the first thing he looked for, racing to her side to snatch her into his arms, which usually elicited screams and gurgles of delight. His greatest pleasures were the simple things he could do with her. He jealously made bath time his own, insisting that Vanessa took a break as he held her squirming form safe in the warm water that she loved, relishing the trust in her eyes and her seeming enjoyment of his singing although Vanessa always grimaced and seemed happy to retreat to another room. Mina was his world but he did not win every issue regarding her. It still rankled that Vanessa had refused to let Mina take his name.

He remembered bringing it up just after they’d moved in. Vanessa, dressed in a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts was cleaning out the kitchen cupboards when he’d brought the issue up.

“But Ethan we aren’t married. As a bastard she has to take her mother’s name.”

“My daughter isn’t a bastard!” he’d roared at her, half in jest but the word bothered him, he could not bear anything derogatory to be said about her.

Vanessa laughed at his outrage but remained stubborn.

“No Ethan, she will be Mina Ives. Chandler is not a name for her as it is not yours to give her and your true name is not one that I would want her to carry either. Whatever you feel about her and your relationship, first and foremost she is the daughter of a long line of strong women and therefore deserves to carry that name and no other until she is of an age to decide for herself.”

And he knew that in that moment she’d shut down every argument and it was pointless to continue. 

“Da da da da da da da,” becoming more insistent in its utterance, drifted in through the open doors of their room and Vanessa’s head popped up to stare into his eyes, a slightly resigned expression on her face.

“My rival for your love seems to be calling you.”

Kissing her firmly but quickly, he extracted himself from the warmth of her body to go greet his daughter’s smile of utter joy as he appeared around the doorway with the kisses and cuddles the love of his life always began every day with.

\---

It was a normal Saturday and they did the normal things, driving to the local Spar Supermarket for the weekly shop and then stopping for lunch at the Ocean Basket. Usually Mina was compliant and happy to sit in a high chair, allowing her parents the opportunity to eat in peace but she was unusually fussy and would only relax and stop crying when held by one of them, which cut lunch short.

“You think she’s coming down with something?” he asked when they got her home and had to deal with her wails of distress as they unloaded the car and packed the cupboards with the groceries.

Vanessa sighed, going to pick the crying baby out of her walker, holding her to her shoulder, rocking her and making comforting noises.

“It could be teeth. I don’t think it is anything to worry about but if this carries on I’ll call the Doctor on Monday.”

The day passed. Ethan took Mina into the pool and later for a walk in the park but she refused to sit in her buggy for longer than a few moments before crying to be held, her pudgy little arms wrapped around his neck as he held her, absorbing her sobs into his chest. Nothing would distract her from her fussing, neither the ducks on the pond or the older children playing in the small playground. She would start at sudden, unexpected sounds and even familiar faces seemed to hold a modicum of terror for her. Finally and in frustration he returned home, having to carry her all the way.

“She’s not herself at all today. What is it sweetie? What’s wrong? She won’t let me put her down and when Magda came over to say hello to her she freaked out.”

Vanessa smiled at his frustrated tone but he could see she too was unsettled, the crease of a frown marring the skin between her eyes.

“That’s so strange, she usually loves Magda.”

“Yeah I know. Honestly it was like she was a total stranger. I really don’t like this Vanessa, something’s wrong.”

“If they’re not well babies often react badly to even common things. It’s that or maybe you’re losing your magic touch with her? Just put her down and let her cry it out, she’ll soon tire and go to sleep.”

But Mina refused to settle and as darkness fell her cries became more insistent. She refused to feed or lay in her crib, her tiny body becoming hotter and hotter. Close to midnight, Vanessa relented and prescribed a spoonful of Calpol to combat her rising temperature and to try and settle her to sleep. Ethan continued to hold and rock her until eventually her tense body relented and she fell into a fitful sleep. With utter gentleness he laid her down in her crib, covering her with a thin sheet, watching the rise and fall of her tiny chest, her hands still balled up into fists. He brushed a gentle kiss onto the top of her head, his heart heavy. Illness frightened him and the possibility of Mina being sick and he unable to do anything about it terrified him. 

At 1.30am Vanessa came into the nursery to find him sitting on the floor, still watching her. She placed a hand onto Mina’s forehead and smiled.

“The temperatures gone down. Come to bed Ethan.”

“No. I’ll stay here, sleep here on the floor just in case she wakes.”

Her smile widened but she shook her head, “There’s nothing more we can do now. In the morning I’ll take her to the emergency clinic and get her looked over. Come to bed, you need to sleep, to keep strong for tomorrow. We’ll hear her if she cries out.”

Almost regretfully, he stood placing his hand on her blonde curls and then taking Vanessa’s outstretched hand, allowed her to lead him to their room where they stripped off their clothes and he pulled her body to him, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other pillowing her head.

“I love you darlin’” he murmured into the raven blackness of her hair.

“And I love you too, but sleep now my love.”

And he drifted into the darkness of exhaustion.

\---

It was not a noise that woke him, rather a scent, something cloying and unnaturally sweet, like rot set old and deep. It seemed to creep into his sleep fuddled brain, trying to elude him, confuse him but intrinsically he knew something was wrong. Next to him Vanessa stirred and he heard her murmuring a word which at first was unclear but as sleep cleared from his brain sounded more like,

“Found, found, found, found.”

Mina. She was in danger. He leapt from the bed, racing for her room as an explosion of glass ripped through the silent air. As he burst into the room, followed seconds later by Vanessa calling out her daughter’s name, he saw the window had been blown out. Turning on the light of the nursery he dashed to the crib in a panic. Icy terror lanced through his heart when he saw it was empty. Mina had gone.

Vanessa seemed in a traumatized daze, her eyes scanning the room and then in an instant they went blank, her body went rigid and words tore from her mouth.

“She found us.”

Ethan clutched his hand to his buzz-cut crown, a panicked roar of confusion and despair escaping his throat. He ran to the window and jumped over the broken glass, hardly feeling the shards that cut into his bare feet in frantic pursuit of their daughter and the witch that had stolen her and as he tore into the night, he heard following him a scream that contained all the anger and grief there ever would be or had been in the world, an echo of his own.

\---

At dawn he returned, half mad with grief. He’d searched everywhere, never ceasing apart from to snatch a pair of jogging bottoms from a nearby line, straining his wolf senses of smell and hearing that were rusty with misuse but he could find nothing, sense nothing. Hecate and his beloved Mina had disappeared it seemed into the ether. The bitch had done her work well, it was like hitting a blank wall.

He found Vanessa sitting still unclothed in the middle of the nursery, surrounded by the glass stained with his blood, clutching at the sheet that had been torn from Mina as she’d been snatched. Her body was wracked by dry sobs but her eyes, which were dry, were blankly staring at the adjacent wall. He turned to follow where her eyes were trained and saw, daubed in blood like an obscenity against the pure whiteness he’d himself painted …

YOUR FAULT!

He turned then to look at the broken woman in front of him. The powerful woman who should have been able to protect a baby, the woman who had failed to save the love of his life, his very reason for living. He could barely feel the love for her that he knew was paramount, obliterated in that moment by the overwhelming loss that tore through him, shredding his very soul.

He knelt down then and grasped her shoulders, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, not caring if he hurt her, left bruises on her pale skin that he’d always treated before with adoration. In that moment he wanted to hurt her because those words smeared across the wall were for him the ultimate truth, what he believed to be true, that Mina’s abduction was her fault, only her fault. That she had failed in her responsibility as a witch, as a woman and as a mother. That she had created an illusion of safety for them and that he had believed it, believed they were safe, believed a lie.

He shook her then hard and her eyes, still dry focused at last on him.

“You should've let me stay with her! If I’d been there, watching over her through the night like I intended to, that twisted cunt never would've come within a mile of Mina! I knew something was coming, I knew it, and so did she! She sensed it but no, what does a child know right? Her fucking teeth, right?! Right?!” He leaned forward so his forehead was almost touching hers. “For fuck sake, do something! Cast one of your little spells, big fuckin' help they've been so far! Maybe you should reach out to the covens, it's not like they can do something like oh, steal our daughter away in the dead of night!” His anger kept rising to dangerous heights as he screamed at her, something he had never done before nor imagined he was capable of.

Her voice was barely a whisper and he had to strain to hear it.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck! What else are we gonna do, twiddle our thumbs and screw our brains out 'til YOUR enemy decides to bring OUR daughter back, if she ever does?! We need to find her, Vanessa! We need to find our daughter before...” His words trailed off with an angered howl as he shook her again and her lack of resistance, her blank eyes, her head flopping loosely on her neck enflamed his anger further. This was reflected in his voice and he did not try and hide his disgust, “You said she’d be safe, that we’d be safe! How could you fuck this up so perfectly? You promised she’d be safe! So where the fuck is she? Tell me where! That crazy bitch is right, this is your fault and if anything happens to her I’ll…” he broke off then at the horror, loss and pain that suddenly flashed into her eyes and pulled her against him as great shattering sobs ripped through her body and the heat of her tears flowed against his naked chest.

“Oh god!" The broken scream tore through his lips and into the skin of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me." He begged into her ear with a voice that was more unsteady than it had ever been, his vocal chords crushed by grief. "I'm just so scared. I just want her back. I feel so useless so fucking useless.” He enwrapped her in his arms, pulling her shaking form into the comfort of his body, rocking her as he would have done Mina as the tears flowed down his own face. “Please... please tell me there's something... anything we can do. I can't just sit here doing nothin' while she's out there, we’ve gotta save her.”

“I don’t know what to do, anything I do will put her in deeper danger. It’s my fault, I should have been more careful, gone away with just Mina. My own selfishness caused this. My need to be with you, to be a family. I knew the spell would only properly shield the two of us but I thought she’d not realise your importance, that she’d assume you’d have no part in this.” Her voice had risen to a wail and he struggled to assimilate the new information pulling back to look down at her bowed head and shaking body in new horror.

“You’re telling me you knew all along that she might find the two of you through me? What the fuck, Vanessa, why didn’t you tell me?! I’d never have put you or our baby in danger if I’d known. I’d have found that sick little twist and torn her apart first. Why couldn't you just let me take care of her? Why couldn't you just trust me to do the one thing to keep our daughter save, to keep you safe? I'm her father and your champion, I swore to keep the both of you from harm's way! Why didn't you let me?”

She raised her head and for a moment in her eyes he saw something of the old Vanessa, a strength, a knowledge and an innate sadness. 

“Because you cannot stand against her, not yet my love and maybe never. Her power is still too great and you have yet to fully understand yours.”

He was just about to counter when the doorbell rang. It was so unexpected that they both looked at each other in shock. 

A deep sense of foreboding drifted over them but they were powerless to ignore the pull towards the door. Quickly Vanessa wrapped the sheet round herself and followed Ethan down the hallway. There was no shadow through the glass and as he turned the lock to open the door, Ethan could hardly bear to look down. His want was to see Mina lying asleep on the door step, safe and that she would open her eyes and smile that special smile she seemed to save just for him was overwhelming. That this would be a dream, some sick joke. That he would take her and Vanessa away and keep moving for as long as it took for them to be safe, so that he never had to relive the terror of this night again.

As his eyes alighted on the front door step, for a split second he thought his prayer had been heard and that God in his benediction had blessed them. On the step sat a simple, white, old fashioned bassinet basket and inside, unbelievably peaceful, her eyes closed, lay Mina covered by a thick, soft, pink blanket.

He heard Vanessa’s sharp intake of breath behind him that turned into a low keening moan. Almost viciously she pushed him out of the way to grab the basket and pull it inside, slamming the door. It was then with growing horror he noticed that Mina did not move at the violence of the movement or the sound and that her skin lacked the usual flush of pink that was present when she slept. Her skin was the colour of wax, it looked pallid and lifeless. Without thinking, he knelt down beside the basket. Vanessa stood on the other side, her eyes wide with horror, her arms wrapped round herself as if to hold herself together as the keening moaning continued to issue from her bloodless lips. 

He knew she was dead; how could she be anything else, so still and yet so perfect like a marble effigy. With infinite gentleness he reached forward to remove the blanket from her still form.

What met his eyes he knew would stay flayed on his brain until the end of days. She was naked under the blanket and her tiny body had been torn open, her skin peeled back, her delicate ribs wrenched open, the cavity of her chest like an obscenely open mouth. The violence and hatred exacted on her perfect form was the most horrific he’d ever encountered and he could not imagine the pain she’d suffered although her face showed none. 

But the violation had not stopped there. Her organs had been torn out, harvested he knew to be used in some sick, satanic ritual. His beautiful, perfect little girl had been sacrificed on the altar of evil and he, the Wolf of God, had been unable to protect her.

Gently he took her into his arms as he would have when she was alive and just sleeping. He pressed his lips to her cold head and through the cloying metallic scent of her blood just for a moment caught the soft milky smell that was unique to her. Vanessa was still standing, her nails raking bloody paths down the skin of her arms. Silently, the grief clawing at his heart and soul, he laid the mutilated yet to his eyes still beautiful body of their daughter into the arms of her mother, holding them close as if he could through want and need heal their hurts. 

For what seemed like hours the two of them stood cradling the body of their dead baby, looking down at her tiny form with nothing but love.

He felt the hot grief of the wolf and the man crash though him but knew that he could not let it overcome him. He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong enough to keep Vanessa from disappearing into the darkness and strong enough to exact the revenge on the woman who’d destroyed in the plunge of a knife the one truly perfect thing he’d ever had. 

His rage was pure ice cold though and he knew that it was that would help sustain him in the task ahead. 

“I’m gonna to find her, and when I do... I’ll inflict such horrors on her that she’ll beg for death long before I’m through.”

Vanessa looked up at him finally, her eyes dark, swimming with unshed tears and a world of pain.

“But before we tend to her, let's take our daughter home, to where we were happy. We should take her back to the moor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We apologize for starting the new year off on such a sour note, but we have a tendency to be evil like that...


	11. Vader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the tragedy, Vanessa and Ethan must do the unthinkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate instalment of this fic. Please don't forget to read the epilogue.

They left that night packing only a minimum of clothing, not wanting to take any reminder of the cursed place with them. 

White faced, Vanessa washed their baby’s violated body with the same tenderness she would have had she still be alive. Although every sinew in him screamed to be allowed to do this final thing for his beloved daughter, he knew that as her mother Vanessa must be allowed these moments to bid her baby goodbye. She had not cried since before Mina’s horrific return and he worried about her mental state. She was cold, remote and seemingly without emotion. She moved as if in a trance, her eyes blank and unfeeling.

He watched as she wrapped the tiny, still body in one of her white silk nightgowns so that only her pale face was visible. She raised Mina up, cradling her in her arms, placing a gentle kiss against her waxen forehead. She then raised her blank eyes to him and he walked forward to lay his lips against the forehead that seemed like ice for the last time and felt, in that moment, his heart shatter with pure pain.

“Sleep tight sweetheart. Daddy loves you, daddy loves you so much.” His voice cracked and the tears fell unabashed from his eyes, staining the silk. He felt his hand curl into fists as finally Vanessa completely swaddled their baby, even her face, in one of his jumpers. He wanted to scream at her not to cover her beautiful face, that she wouldn’t be able to see, be able to breath and that she’d be so frightened but he knew it was his own mad grief that brought these feelings to the fore and although he did not want to accept it, he knew the truth, that she no longer lived and breathed and that nothing would ever frighten her again. She would travel one last time in death, wrapped lovingly in the scents of the two people whose great love had created her. Vanessa then placed the bundle into a leather bag and began the complicated series of chants that would obscure it and the contents from any eyes other than their own. Mina would be held until the moment she was placed into the ground on Ballentree Moor in the grieving embrace of one of her parents.

Ethan insisted that Vanessa laid down on their bed and tried to sleep. He left her staring up at the ceiling whilst he cleaned the bloody message off the nursery wall and replaced the glass in the window although he could barely stand to be in there, the last place he’d seen Mina alive but not wanting to give any reason for them to be followed after their flight. He finally scrawled a vague explanation note to the landlord, enclosing a hefty sum of cash, more than they could afford, so he would not be out of pocket before getting new tenants.

At noon they left the house and with Vanessa holding the bag on her lap, drove the 6 hours in silence to Johannesburg where they abandoned the car in a side street and took the bus to the airport. Vanessa’s spells held, the gazes of the security staff and other passengers failing to see the bag one or the other of them held cradled in their arms. Vanessa refused to eat or drink on the flight which luckily was less than half full but he was able to make her lay down along the seat, her head on his lap, her arms laced around Mina’s leather coffin although she did not sleep. He dozed fitfully, his dreams full of images of blood, pain and the screaming voice of his daughter.

At Heathrow he hired a car but stopped at the first motorway service station and refused to drive anywhere until Vanessa ate and drank something. It seemed to take her hours to eat the two thin slices of toast and drink the mug of tea he bought her. He understood her reluctance, he could hardly eat and the sandwich he forced down felt like a leaden weight in his stomach. 

Again the drive to the moor passed in silence but he was aware of a change in her the nearer they got to their final destination. Her hands which had been so still began to pluck at the bag, playing with the zip, pulling it closer into her body. Around her the atmosphere also changed, she seemed agitated and finally as the cottage, nestled in the broad expanse of moor, appeared over the crest of a ridge, he glanced at her to see tears streaming down a face that was so white he could hardly believe she could be alive. He pulled over to the side of the road just in front of the place they’d been at their happiest and wrapped her in his arms, twining his fingers into her hair, feeling her scalding tears soak through his sweatshirt as the floodgates of her grief finally broke through.

Against his chest he could feel her head thrashing from side to side and the muttered sounds of words that for a moment he failed to recognise, but as he eased her away from his body became clearer.

“I can’t, can’t. I can’t.” She repeated over and over.

“Vanessa, hey, it's okay. Look at me. Please baby, look at me.”

She raised her eyes to him and he felt his own eyes fill with tears at the desolation he saw there.

“I can’t put her in the ground. It’s too cold, too dark. She’ll be frightened Ethan, so frightened. She’s only a baby, just a tiny baby. I can’t do it, I can’t put our daughter in the ground.” Her voice was full of panic and her body shook as he tried to hold her against him again, to calm her but she broke from his hold and before he could stop her she was out of the car running, clutching the bag against her chest stumbling over the rocky ground.

“Vanessa!”

He leapt from the car in pursuit when she stopped suddenly and to his horror he saw that in her hand she clutched a knife, her knuckles white and hard against the blackness of the handle.

Her eyes were wild and without rational thought and she screamed at him in a voice so full of pain he thought her heart would fail.

“I can’t leave her alone! She needs me! She needs me with her! I’m going with her and you can’t stop me Ethan! Please don’t try and stop me, I need to do this!” And he saw her raise the knife to her throat.

When he looked back later he realised that what he felt in that moment was total rage at the sight of her so broken and it crashed over him like a tidal wave. He faced her then and words that spewed from his mouth in an animalistic roar emanated from the fury and grief that tore at his very heart and soul.

“How... Dare you, Vanessa Ives?! How dare you be so selfish? You think you're the only one that's suffering here? How do you think I feel, huh? I lost my daughter and now you're gonna leave me too?! SHE is still out there, she did this to our Mina and you're just gonna let her get away with that? Let her win? You know what, GOOD! Do it, off yourself! Prove that you're a shitty, spineless mother that couldn’t bear to stick around long enough to avenge your daughter’s death. Prove that you didn’t deserve to be Mina’s mother you selfish bitch, go ahead, do it. DO IT! I won't mourn you, oh no, I'll spit on your shallow grave which I'll dig myself. I’ll hate you until the end of my days I swear it on my love for Mina. Go the fuck ahead!”

Her face was ashen, gaunt, the bones so prominent they appeared to be cutting through her transparent skin but he knew his words had broken through her madness as her hand lost purchase on the blade she held to her throat and as it fell from her nerveless fingers a howl of utter loss tore from her throat as she crashed to the iron cold ground, still clutching the bag.

He ran to her then, gathering her body into his arms and started carrying her towards the cottage but as he got to the gate she began to shake, her breathing harsh, “No, I can’t go in. I can’t go back in there - ever!” Her voice bordered on the hysterical and in desperation to keep her warm he carried her back to the car. The weight she’d gained since being in South Africa had seemed in the last two days to have melted off her and she weighed practically nothing. She began crying again and he placed her back on to the passenger seat, but it was not the wild hysterical sobbing of before. He knelt on the ground by the side of the car and held her, trying to imbue some of the strength and control that he was fighting so hard to keep, into her. Eventually he felt her relax against him, the storm of crying calming until she stilled, completely exhausted.

Easing her away from him and back towards the seat, he brushed the tangle of curls away from her face, tracing the lines of pain that seemed so deeply etched into her skin. Her mouth moved as if to speak but he stopped it with his own, pressing a tender kiss against her bloodless lips and then over her wet cheeks, her eyes and finally her forehead.

“It’s okay, you don't need to say anything. Try and rest just for a bit, try and sleep.” He stripped his sweatshirt off, tucking it round her body that felt like ice. Although the November cold was biting he knew what he was about to do would warm his body though not his soul.

He went to the little shed round the back of the cottage and found a shovel he knew was there. The shovel that had been used decades ago to create a garden and now would be used to dig a grave. As he passed the car on his way to the tree stump where he would begin to dig, he looked in and breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared that exhaustion had finally taken its toll, Vanessa’s eyes were closed and it appeared that she slept, the leather bag still clutched in her arms like she was cradling the baby inside.

The ground was hard with cold and rocks and digging into it was back-breaking work. His body soon ran with sweat that steamed in the cold air and the muscles in his arms, shoulders and back began to protest, stabs of pain lancing through them like torture. But he kept on, he was not going to rest, not going to give up. Mina was going to be buried properly, deep in the ground where she’d been born. Deep in the ground that was scattered with the ashes of her mother’s beloved mentor. Blisters started to form on the palms of his hands, eventually breaking, blood slicking the handle of the shovel and running down to water the ground and yet still he carried on. And throughout, his own tears fell onto the same ground and it felt right that he should suffer to bury her, that in some way his physical suffering emulated that of the soul that would lie there forever.

Late in the afternoon, about an hour before sunset he stopped, finally satisfied with the depth that he had achieved. He lay the shovel down and then walked slowly over to the car. As he put his hand onto the door Vanessa’s eyes flew open and the look she gave him was one of such utter love and understanding that it almost floored him. Gently she opened the bag and drew out the tiny bundle and uncovered the pale face. He opened the door and as she stood, wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her to the grave he’d dug.

They stood at the edge looking out over the moor, the dying sun streaking the sky with oranges, reds, pink and purple as if the day itself understood the importance of this moment and wanted to mark it in its own way. He wrapped his arms round the two entities that had become his reason for being looking down for a final time at the perfection that was his daughter.

“It’s time.” he said and watched as Vanessa raised the baby to her face, kissing the cold forehead and then lowering her lips to Mina’s ear, whispering her own private goodbye. He then climbed into the hole and Vanessa passed the tiny bundle down to him. He held her one last time, smiling down at her still form, remembering every smile, every sound that had ever passed between them and felt the hideous pain of loss knife through his heart. Reverently he laid her down onto the ground and then pulled himself out. Vanessa stood like a statue, only her lips moving in silent prayer as he took the shovel once more in his ruined hands and started to fill in the grave, the open wounds on his hands nothing compared to that tearing his heart and soul, knowing that in burying his daughter he was burying the best part of himself.

As the sun began to slip behind the horizon he placed the last shovel of earth flattening it down. Vanessa then placed a large flat stone she must have collected at some point at the end of the grave, although he could not recall her having moved from the graveside. She knelt down and then using the very knife she threatened to end her life with hours before, drew it deeply across her thumb. The blood bloomed red against the white of her hand and with care she drew her own protection glyph of the scorpion onto the smooth surface.

“No-one will see or be able to come near here. This will be a sacred place, sacrosanct.” Her voice strong now rang out over the moors just as the last rays of the day slipped past the horizon. The first stars began to appear as he wrapped her into his arms, feeling her body stiffen against his as she tried not to break and she whispered,

“I can’t stay in the cottage, I can never enter that place again, it will break my heart. Losing Joan here wasn't easy but Mina... Our Mina.”

He understood her pain, he felt the same and with his arms still around her lead her to the car.

After an hour of driving they found a small hotel, a neon vacancy sign blinking with sickening pallor in the grubby window. The reception was cold and shabby with a faint smell of mildew and overcooked vegetables. In any other circumstances Ethan would have walked out but he was exhausted and beyond care and knew that Vanessa just needed to sleep. The young boy behind the desk, nails bitten to the quick, disinterestedly signed them and passed him a key.

“Number 6, on the second floor, breakfast from 7.30.”

When Ethan asked about dinner he was told that, “you’ve missed it mate.” But after slipping him some cash the boy promised to, “rustle a sandwich or something up.”

He practically had to carry Vanessa up the stairs. On entering the room he led her to the bed where she sat gazing blankly round the gloomy room illuminated by the bedside lamp and side lamp that he’d switched on. In the dim light he scanned the room, noticing on a small table a kettle and made her a cup of tea. In the meantime the boy knocked on the door with a couple of doorstep sandwiches, the bread slightly stale and curled at the edges. He also carried a half empty bottle of whiskey.

“I thought the lady could do with something stronger.” He said with an embarrassed smile.

Vanessa was compliant with exhaustion and ate part of a sandwich and drank her tea, into which he poured a large slug of the whiskey with no argument and he wolfed down the rest, suddenly starving, drinking the harsh liquid straight from the bottle, enjoying the burn that for the first time in 48 hours made him feel something other than excruciating pain.

“In the morning we’ll have breakfast and then decide what we’re gonna do next. We need to make plans, we need to find her.” He couldn’t bear to speak her name. “But first we’re going to take a shower and then get some sleep. We’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning.”

He pulled her to her feet and led her into the bathroom, pulling the blind shut. With some coaxing he got the rusty shower over the bath working. Vanessa was just standing there, her hands plucking at her clothes uselessly, so with gentle care he helped her out of hers and then stripped off his own and lifted her under the water that he thanked God was warm and as it hit the cool air, the steam curled like smoke around them as the water danced over their skin in linear patterns. Lovingly he pulled her into his arms and she buried her face into his chest, the tears which finally came mixing in with the water. The silence was deafening and he couldn’t stand to listen to it so he began softly to sing like he used to to Mina at bath time, the pain of it making his voice horse and off-key.

"There's a fire in the sky, and I know it's you. There's a light that's so bright, and I know it's you. And I dream like you. And I believe in truth. For I was always there. I will always be there."

She held tightly to him, hands on his back trying to find purchase as sobs shook her body. Ethan caressed her hair as she cried, fighting back tears himself, his brow tightening as he struggled to remain strong for her although the grief welled up in his chest. He pressed a lasting kiss to her crown, and continued humming softly to her. She brought her face up from his chest and level with his. He looked deep into her eyes, those eyes that had haunted his every waking hour for a century and although he couldn’t speak, in that gaze transmitted every ounce of his love. Finally he lowered his face, and then they kissed. Ever so softly. When their lips parted, his hand guided her head to his shoulder and she rested it there.

"It's not your fault." he whispered to her. "It's not your fault."

They stood in the shower until the hot water failed and then he helped her out, drying her skin and hair and finding in the bag, where he’d thrown some clothes, a t-shirt to slip over her nakedness. He tucked her, like a child, into the bed where thankfully almost immediately, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

Although the exhaustion lay like a weight on his back he knew he would not rest easy and he stood by the window, the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand, looking out over the black moor pushing out with his sight trying to pin point that exact piece of cold ground where he’d left his heart. He sent a silent prayer skywards that she was at rest and then in his mind’s eye he saw an image that brought him some peace. A woman, hair the colour of honey, dressed in clothes of the past, was standing holding a small baby, her blonde curls glimmering in the sunlight that slanted down from the bluest sky. As she looked up from the tiny face, he looked into eyes the twins of his own and the baby she held. A smile of joy stretched her mouth wide and her eyes glowed. Sarah Talbot lifted the tiny hand of his daughter and waved it at him. She then raised her hand to her mouth, blowing him a kiss just as he remembered as a boy and then she turned and he too returned to the present. The idea that Mina was safe in the arms of his mother, whether true or not, provided him with some modicum of peace. He knelt at the side of the bed where Vanessa slept, gently running his fingers over her face, which even in grief to him was the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

“Sleep my darlin’. She’s safe. Mina’s safe with my Mom. She’ll take care of her for us.”

He then extinguished the lights and slipped under the covers next to Vanessa, curling himself around her thin back.

\---

“Da, da, da, da.” The sound pierced through his sleep, gentle at first and becoming more insistent and for a moment he was back in the house in Bloemfontein, a happy father. He rolled out of bed, hoping to settle Mina back to sleep before she woke Vanessa but was brought to reality by his feet touching not cool, smooth tiles but slightly sticky, cheap carpet. His sleep fuddled brain took a few moments to ascertain where he was and then it came crashing back. Mina’s abduction, her murder, the burial on the moor. The sound of her voice calling had been a dream, a fucking nightmare. The room was still dark. He sat on the side of the bed for a moment, holding his head in his hands. Was this what he was going to suffer? Never able to rest. Forever hearing his daughter’s cries in his dreams. And then he heard it again but stronger this time and the garbled utterings of a baby changed into a voice the same timbre and inflection of a baby but the words now becoming clearer.

“Daddy, Daddy where are you? Daddy I’m scared, I’m frightened.” 

Violently he shook his head, trying to dislodge the sound. It was not real, this was not real he was still asleep, he must be still in a dream. But the voice sounded again, the pitch becoming higher, more panicked.

“Daddy she’s hurting me. Daddy the nasty lady with the knife is hurting me.”

“It’s not real, it’s not real.” He looked over at Vanessa’s sleeping form, trying to find something solid, something real, something good to cling onto but as he gazed at her she seemed to become distant, her form turning to something unknown and he felt his love draining away, turning to something like disdain and contempt.

“Save me Daddy. Save me now like you couldn’t before. Daddy don’t let her hurt me again. Come to me Daddy. Come to me now!”

He couldn’t resist the sound of her voice, it overcame everything, draining every other thought and feeling. The image of his daughter filled his mind and he could not fight it, he was powerless against her in death just as he was in life. Every other thought and feeling was obliterated and he felt the inexorable pull towards that corrupted voice that polluted every part of him, addictive as any drug.

Helpless he pulled his clothes on and without looking back walked through the door and out into the night.

\---

Grey dawn seeped in through the ill-fitting curtains but she wasn’t sure if it was this or the fact that she felt so cold that woke her. Not that she should be surprised, the weather they’d returned to had been unseasonably cold made more extreme by the fact that they’d left South Africa in high summer. Sleep had come easily but hardly surprisingly due to both her physical and emotional exhaustion and also the large shot of whiskey she knew Ethan had administered in her tea the previous night. She turned over on the lumpy mattress to curl into Ethan’s familiar warmth, needing the comfort of his arms to ease not only the cold of her body but also the icy hurt in her soul. But that warmth was missing. For a moment her sleep fogged brain assumed he was in the bathroom but when her hand ran over the sheet it was lacking the remedial warmth of a body recently laid there. The sheet was cold like that side of the bed had been empty for a long while.

Sluggishly she pulled herself up, blinking in the half-light, finally noticing that there was no artificial light coming from the bathroom.

“Ethan?” Her voice was hoarse with misuse and she was hardly surprised there was no reply. “Ethan?” She spoke louder but still nothing. A feeling of unease crept down her spine as she clambered out of bed and padded to the bathroom. It was then that she noticed that his clothes from the previous day were gone but the other few possessions he’d carried into the room were still there, but this did not reassure her. She felt cold panic creep up her spine and the unspoken dread that she’d been holding at bay since the moment their baby had been taken flooded through her. He’d left her. His grief had been so great that to stay with the mother of his butchered child, a constant reminder as to what he’d had, was too much for even him to bear. And then from the darkest corners of her brain another realisation then hit her. It was not just the loss of that perfect child that had caused him to run but her inability to protect her, the being that he loved above all other had irrevocably damaged his love for her, to such an extent that he was unable to stay. 

Blind, white pain flooded through her and without thinking she ran from the room down the stairs, flinging the door of the hotel wide and she stumbled out onto the gravel of the car park, gazing in horror at the empty space where the previous night he’d parked the hire car. 

It was that simple sign but one more than anything else that confirmed her worst fears that not only had she lost her precious child but also the one and only man she had ever or would ever love. Her grief broke like a dam and she fell to the ground, hardly feeling the stones embedding and cutting into her knees as she raised her tear streaked face and screamed his name and her loss into the unforgiving sky.


	12. Vensters en Deure (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every beginning has an end...

The tome with its strange glyph haunted her every moment, waking and sleeping. She could recall with such clarity the feel of the paper under her finger tips, the dark power that radiated from its pages. The godlike feeling of utter and unadulterated mastery. God she wanted that back, that blackness, that headlong rush into something, somewhere where she wouldn’t need to feel – where she could just be – an entity rather than a person. But she couldn’t go back to the cottage, couldn’t pass that patch of disturbed ground where her baby lay. She knew that even stepping close to it would be her undoing, that she would have to claw the earth to find the tiny body, to wrap her own about it deep in the cold clay of the moor and lay there until they became one in the earth. 

Tightly curled into a ball on the bed, the sheets of which needed changing a week ago she lay like an addict, her skin slick with sweat. She could not remember the last time she’d eaten properly or even washed but she hardly cared. Whilst she still had money the hotel were happy to let her stay and even deliver sustenance to the door although she took little of it other than cups of tea. The pain of Ethan’s abandonment had faded surprisingly quickly from excruciating agony into a dull ache. A realisation that she did not want to face kept pushing to the fore and however much she tried to ignore it, it refused to be ignored - that maybe they had never meant to be, that maybe their union was doomed from the start just as it had seemed all those years before. That her wish and want to live a ‘normal’ life was still as much a dream as that that had been offered to her by Satan in Evelyn Poole’s dungeon of dolls.

Whispers resounded through her brain. What was the point of fighting now that she’d lost everything? Why not give in? Allow herself to slip into the dark arms of the fallen angel, let the inevitable happen. In doing that everything would be destroyed, all pain would be obliterated, she would exist through the ages without care, without feeling, omnipotent in pure unadulterated evil. What had her endless war ever bought her but suffering and loss? What would it ever bring her but that? It would be so easy, not even a choice just a lowering of her guard, the speaking of just a few words and then an eternity of a peace free from thought, decision – freedom. The only price - her soul. Hardly a large price to pay considering the ravaged, torn entity it was now.

A soft knock interrupted the blackness of her musings.

“Just leave it outside.” She croaked. She hardly recognised her own voice, abused by misuse. But instead of doing as she asked the person on the other side knocked again more insistently and then a voice sounded through the wood, a voice that she’d not heard for what seemed like a lifetime and the only voice that could ease her from the path she’d started down.

“Miss Ives. May I come in?”

She sat up and straightened the filthy t-shirt she was wearing, running her fingers through the hopeless tangle of her hair.

“Come in Mr Clare although you’ll have to excuse my appearance.”

The door opened and carrying a tray in was the only truly beautiful soul that she’d ever known. He was dressed as always in dark clothing, his black donkey jacket’s collar raised to obscure as much of his poorly made visage as possible.

“Just as you have always with mine and I have none of your excuses.” His tone was sombre and measured as she remembered but there was a flash of amusement in his golden eyes.

Two conflicting emotions raced through her on seeing her dearest friend, relief at his presence, that she was not alone, that she was remembered and utter humiliation that he should see her like this.

He must had seen something in her eyes because carefully he put the tray down and took a few steps towards her.

“Miss Ives, even like this you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the honour of laying my eyes on. However if it embarrasses you for me to see you as such I can leave giving you a chance to freshen up or if you’d rather I’ll go altogether….”

“NO!” 

She saw the surprise on his face at the aggressiveness of her tone and she too was shaken at the depth of feeling she had at his suggestion of leaving.

“I’m sorry Mr Clare. I have not wanted to see anyone since….” Her voice trailed off and she saw the look of understanding on his face, “but now you are here the idea of you leaving fills me with dread. Yes please let me clean myself up and then you can explain your presence here which although welcome is a surprise. Please Mr Clare sit, I will be with you shortly.”

Quickly she grabbed the bag that contained her clothes and shut herself in the bathroom. Whilst she rapidly showered and dressed, her mind mulled over the sudden arrival of the man that had so many times pulled her back from destruction. What was this strange connection between them, the way he seemed to know where she was and when she was most in need?

The shower and clean clothes made her feel better and for the first time in what seemed like forever she had a reason to look forward, there was hope. On exiting the bathroom she quickly saw that her visitor had not been idle. The room had been tidied, the window opened and the bed had been made with fresh sheets. Food was set out on the table including a steaming tea pot.

She found her eyes swimming with tears and without thinking rushed forward to bury her head into the broad chest, her arms wrapping around him, desperate to feel some comfort, some human warmth. She felt him stiffen and then the gentle patting of careful hands on her back, his body rocking hers, holding her until the storm of tears passed. When she finally quietened, gently he pushed her away using the rough sleeve of his jacket to wipe away her tears and then led her to the table where he placed a large slice of cake and a mug of tea before her.

“Eat, dear Ms Ives. It is clear that you have not been looking after yourself and you need your strength for what is to come.”

“Why? Why should I continue to fight? For what purpose? I’ve lost everything, everything that I held dear. Everything that was good. Does it not just prove that I should give in to the evil inside of me? That to battle any further is pointless. That whatever I do, however I begin I will always end at this point, alone, broken, my heart a bloody torn mass. I have fought for so long to save myself and mankind from darkness and yet always find myself in a place darker still. “

Ethan would have shouted at her, told her to snap out of it. But the man in front of her now was not her brash, bold gun-slinger. John Clare was a man made of suffering and struggle. A man that had battled every day of his existence, a man that had seen the worst in mankind and yet still ached to belong.

He insisted that she ate before he told her what had brought him to her and she began, slowly at first but with increased hunger, to eat and drink the food he’d provided. Quietly he told her of how he’d found her, the dreams that had haunted his sleeping hours of her and Ethan and Mina. The tears he’d wept that he’d been too far away to help when Hecate had snatched and butchered Mina and the pull he’d felt to the moor and to that tiny grave by the stump of a dead tree.

“I wish I’d seen her. I would have loved to hold her if you’d have let me. Be her friend. Her teacher maybe. I could have read her poetry.” The whisper of a smile crossed his scarred features before he continued. “The earth was still fresh when I got there. Maybe it was only a few days after you’d been there. I could still feel your presence. I was just standing there, not knowing why I’d been called but knowing I had to be there when I saw a woman. She was small and old and as she approached me I knew that she was not of this time. She saw what I was and called me monster, but I knew that she did not mean it unkindly that it was just her truth.”

“Joan. It was Joan.” Vanessa leant forward, the air in the room suddenly still. She could see the scene unfolding almost in front of her eyes as he spoke about the strange grey haired woman with bi-coloured eyes that had appeared without warning before him, almost as if she were part of the moor itself.

“She never told me her name but she told me where to find you and what had happened since you’d put Mina in the ground. She then told me to give ‘her Little Scorpion’ a message. She said that Mina’s soul had not yet lived out its life and that she still had a part to play. That I needed to find a woman touched by the devil, a woman doomed to die who could bare the child again. She told me to remind you of the changeling spell and that you would know what to do when the time came.” His voice drifted off but she knew there was more, that he was not telling her everything.

“John. Tell me everything. There was more. I know there was more. With Joan there was always more!”

He smiled then, a true smile that reached his eyes, which to her had always been the most beautiful part of him.

“You are like her you know. There is an innate strength in her that I feel in you. Yes there was more but it is even more cryptic. She said you needed to learn to play chess. That your queen needed to set her pieces onto the board and that the game needed to start. She warned that pieces would be lost and sacrifices would need to be made but that you were strong enough and that the final battle needed to start. Then she just walked away towards the house and it seemed that she vanished. I’m sorry that is all I can tell you but I will do anything I can to help you, anything.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Vanessa Ives smiled and began to feel hope. How could she have thought to give up, to believe that the game was played out? The apparition of Joan had taught her that nothing ended and that her work was not over. She owed it to Mina, the friend and the daughter to see this thing through to the end, whatever that was and suddenly an image formed in her mind. An image from a dream but not remembered, a dream yet to be. Three girls dressed in white, bare footed and laughing, running through a field of lavender being watched by the smiling figure of a man, her man. 

“Miss Ives, what can I do to help you?” Mr Clare’s voice cut through her musings and she looked up to see his concerned face.

“First you can call me Vanessa. Then we need to get you a passport it you don’t have one as I need you to go to South Africa for me.”

“And you, what will you do?”

“I need to find a place to set up my chess board,” and then an image came into her mind of a room with cathedral high ceilings, a room that felt like home. It was the pale room she’d seen during the agony of childbirth. And then a vision of a heart-shaped face surrounded by a cloud of brown curls and eyes of deep emerald green. “But first I must call an old friend, I have a feeling I’m going to need help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so a coven is born. Thank you to our loyal readers for your support and a big thank you to Theda for bringing the two of us together to write this. Hope you enjoyed it lady xx
> 
> Yes thank you to everyone - hope you've all enjoyed reading as much as I have writing - especially Theda xx

**Author's Note:**

> This is an official entry in the Seize the Night Chronicles. However, it is a prequel to Carpe Noctem, which is already finished and ready for your viewing pleasure.  
> The team:  
> scorpionmother - writing/editing  
> OerbaIzalith - story/editing


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